Dovahfahdon: A Twist in the Tail
by dataeatr
Summary: A modified version of my Dragonfriend story world (rules only, not a prequel) where Wildheart comes to Berk during the first movie. First movie AU, will eventually deviate from the original script.
1. Prologue 1

**Prologue 1 - The Ghost**

**Mousetail's POV (age 6)**

I had been born small, which is a crime for Viking children. It didn't matter that half the children on Greater Skull Island were small. They had an excuse. They weren't Vikings. They were the 'spawn of slaves and foreigners'. They were supposed to be small.

My first memories were of pain. My father, Frangeir 'The Vicious' Heimgardt, would get drunk and beat the Hel out of me, even when I had done nothing wrong. My mother, Hildegard 'The Docile' Heimgardt, lived up to her title and never did anything to stop him or comfort me. I suspect that she was the target of Dad's abuse before me.

The slaves, they just had to do their chores, say "Yes sir" or "No sir" and they would be dismissed to their tiny huts, surrounded by loved ones. Sure, their days really sucked, but their evenings were still peaceful.

Sometimes, I envied them.

My days were no picnic either. I was small, so the other Viking children either ignored me or treated me like their personal training dummy. To the slaves and their children, I was still a Viking, and no slave could socialize with a Viking. I learned to stay hidden and observe, but never interact. Everyone started refering to me as the Village Ghost, whether or not they knew I was around. Mousetail 'The Ghost' Heimgardt.

I wanted to just disappear for real.

I still learned a lot though. You see, our tribe is the Cutthroats, and every full moon, our Cutthroat Carnival was the biggest show in the North Sea! Thanks to it, we didn't have to raid the mainland settlements like most other Viking villages. We had the usual stuff of course: jugglers, acrobats, musicians, storytellers. We also have swordsmen and archers from the far east, dancers and firewalkers from the South Sea, and our biggest draw, DRAGONS!

Dragons were more common farther north, where there were fewer humans to compete with. We still had defenses and traps, just in case, but they were more to reassure the visiting nobles and Vikings than actual defense. The dragons were the only show I could never sneak into, but not for lack of trying. Someone seemed to always catch me at the last moment, tell me it was too dangerous, and escort me home. If Dad was still concious, he'd use my attempt as an excuse to beat me.

I'd spend most of my days watching the entertainers practice and train their children to take over one day. They would chase me off sometimes, but I'd always come back with a new hiding place. Harsh words were nothing compared to home.

My favorite entertainer was easily a Greek storyteller named Aesop. His stories always made me stop and think about how the world was. He never chased me off either. Aesop seemed to welcome an extra ear as he practiced the timing and pronunciation in Norse (which was NOT his native language).

So, my home life was filled with abuse, my social circle was non-existant, and the only adult that chose to speak to me believed that animals could talk like people. It doesn't take an Elder to realize that I had a very messed up childhood.

* * *

><p><strong>Mousetail's POV (age 8)<strong>

After a couple years, I realized that my parents were never going to help me, now or in the future. If I was going to survive, I'd have to make my own path. The other Viking children were trained in their family's trade or combat, but I wasn't about to spar against them. I was still much smaller than them and couldn't properly wield the heavy iron weapons.

Since my parents' idea of a Snoggletog gift was a new shirt, I took up woodworking to make my own toys. Most of my pieces landed in a firepit or smashed into pieces, courtesy of the Viking children, so I was always working on my next project.

That was how I met Lars, the Master Craftsman of the Cutthroats. I was detailing the figurehead for a model of our flagship near one of his construction projects. He saw what I was working on and praised it.

It was the first time anyone had said something positive to me. He accepted me as an apprentice and taught me a lot about working with wood and leather. I was scrawny compared to his adult workers, but they couldn't match my skill at detailing or my ability to run across the island and fetch something/someone. Sometimes, I felt like the shop's mascot, but at least I belonged somewhere.

Working for Lars gave me a good excuse to avoid my Dad and the other kids. I had access to proper tools, flexible hours to keep people-watching, and a sense of belonging. Hauling wood and tools everywhere also helped me start building _some_ muscle. My life finally didn't suck.

* * *

><p><strong>Mousetail's POV (age 9)<strong>

After a year of working for Lars and the other carpenters, I had been challenged to craft my Journeyman project, a dragon totem to help flank the entrance to our dragon show. Part of the challenge was that my statue was supposed to be a Hobblegrunt, a dragon I'd only seen in training manuals and on ship figureheads.

The first thing I had to do was harvest the wood. The other carpenters were forbidden from helping me any step of the way. I was a little worried about moving a large log by myself, so I decided to camp on Little Skull Island and only transport the rough statue back. The final details could wait until I got it up to the dragon ring, so I could deal with any transport damage.

After I packed everything I might need (and a few things I didn't), I borrowed a rowboat and sailed over to Little Skull the next morning. The trip took about an hour and I was soon securing my boat on the sandy beach.

"First thing I need is a campsite with fresh water," I reminded myself. Leaving my less-edible supplies and tools in the boat, I started inland.

I'd been to Little Skull before to help the senior carpenters gather wood. I knew there was a lake somewhere near the center, but I'd never seen it. The other carpenters always knew where to find the perfect tree for their assignment, so we never stayed long. I, however, would be stuck searching for a day or two, then there was the actual carving itself.

I followed the lusher vegetation to find their water source, like I was taught. I just spotted the lake between some trees when I heard a low growl. A chill went down my spine and I grabbed the handle of my short sword.

I stared in the direction of the sound, trying to recognize the predator. _'Aesop often talks about lions in his stories. Could that growl have been a large cat?'_

I took a deep breath and waited for a sudden flash of movement. None came and the growling eventually stopped. I could almost hear Aesop chiding, "Curiosity killed the cat!" as I moved to investigate the noise.

When I rounded a large tree and saw the noisemaker, my breath caught and I hid behind the same tree. In a small clearing ahead of me, caught in a net of rusty metal chains, was a dark orange dragon. I knew very little about dragons, but I'd still heard the horror stories from survivors of dragon raids.

My brain went into overdrive while I tried to figure out what to do. _'A wild dragon! HERE!? I've never heard of our traps actually catching one! What am I supposed to do with it?'_

I peeked around the tree, ready to hide again from a stream of fire. The dragon was facing the nearby lake, watching me with a single yellow eye. It was clear that he couldn't aim a flame attack at me, even if he wanted to.

I stepped into the clearing, keeping a cautious distance. I moved my hand away from my blade and the dragon's eye softened slightly.

"I guess I surprised you," I whispered to the dragon, "You surprised me too, you know."

The dragon kept watching me closely while I talked. _'This thing's not going to attack me, which is good. It looks like he's been stuck for a few days, and this trap is so old that it probably hasn't been checked in years. Otherwise, it should have been replaced or repaired.'_

"This is a first for me," I explained, rubbing the back of my neck, "I didn't even know we still had dragon traps on this island. Someone probably forgot about this one."

The dragon looked towards the lake and gave a pitiful whine. The meaning was clear, but I wasn't eager to literally get in the line of fire. After a few moments, I set my pack down.

"I hope you realize that I'm the only way for you to get water right now," I reminded the dragon, starting towards the lake. I filled my helmet with water and held it up to the dragon, who lapped it up gratefully.

"I still don't know what to do about you," I confessed, "I'd never get you back on my own. None of the adults will come out here either. Probably just think I'm trying to con some help for my Journeyman project."

The dragon looked at me curiously, eyes slightly softer. There was simply no plausible option to get it back to the village. If I ignored the situation, the dragon would succumb to the elements in a couple days. A slow, painful death. No creature deserved such a fate. _'Abused, forgotten, ignored, and trapped. I can sympathize.'_

"If I let you out of that trap, do you promise not to kill me?" I asked the dragon.

The dragon looked pointedly at the sword on my left hip. It was like the great beast was asking, 'Will you?'

I removed my sword and tossed it towards my pack. The dragon visibly relaxed.

"I'm going to need to climb up to the release mechanism," I explained in advance, "So don't attack me."

The dragon stayed very still as I clambered up his chain cocoon. The mechanism was a little rusty, just like the chain net. After a few kicks, it came loose and I fell on top of the dragon in a heap. The dragon rushed for the lake and I tumbled off it's back.

Smiling, I watched as the dragon drank his fill. Once satisfied, he gave a mighty roar, spreading his wings and briefly lighting himself on fire. _'I think I'll keep this my little big secret.'_


	2. Prologue 2

**Prologue 2 - The Traitor**

**Mousetail's POV (age 9)**

I had expected the dragon to just fly off once it was done at the lake, but he stayed nearby. He watched as I returned to my boat for the rest of my supplies. He watched me set my camp. He watched me fish up and cook my dinner. I tried to ignore my stalker, but ignoring a dragon as big as a ship is next to impossible.

I looked through my copy of the Dragon Manual (brought along for the model sketches) and saw that my lizard friend was a Monstrous Nightmare. I decided to call him Blaze. The scaled illustrations suggested that Blaze was smaller than the average Nightmare. _'But is he just young, or a runt like me?'_

It was still quite a shock when I woke up the next morning and saw Blaze sleeping across the fire pit from me. While my heartbeat slowed to normal, Blaze heard me moving around and woke up. The dragon dived into the lake and scooped up some fish for breakfast. When he surfaced, a couple extra fish were skewered on his back spines, still wriggling.

I had to chuckle at his antics and started rebuilding the campfire to chase away the morning chill. Blaze came back around and nuzzled me with his nose. _'I hope he doesn't try to follow me home. Can I keep him Dad? I'm sure he'd love that.'_

I removed the fish from Blaze's spines and gave one to the dragon. Cooking the second fish, I looked at Blaze. His eyes seemed softer than ever. He almost seemed to be smiling.

"You're definitely not what I expected from a dragon," I told Blaze, "Every adult I know says that dragons are dangerous, blood-thirsty, monsters."

Blaze gave me a doubting look and I laughed before explaining. "Of course, the only first-hand accounts I've heard were from Vikings who were fighting off dragon raids at the time. Any enemy that is ready to kill you, human or dragon, is a monster to people."

Blaze seemed to accept my explanation and settled down next to me. It was a nice feeling, a friend by my side and a meal in front of me. It was almost as nice as working in the Wood Mill. _'Lars probably wouldn't like Blaze though. A burning dragon in a Wood Mill. Now THAT'S a recipe for disaster.' _After breakfast, I set out to find a suitable tree to cut down, Blaze following me like a faithful hunting dog.

* * *

><p>Three days later, there was no sign of a workable tree. I was starting to suspect that all the trees suitable for this project had already been harvested. Blaze followed me the whole time and we'd stop to play when the pressure of the search started to get to me. I was truly grateful for the company, enjoying the dragon more than anyone else back home, even Aesop.<p>

I looked enviously at the unscalable plateau covered with trees, towering over the rest of the island. "I could probably find the tree I need up there."

Before I knew what was happening, Blaze scooped me onto his nose from behind and took to the sky. I screamed so loud, the villagers back home probably heard me. I stayed spread-eagle, flat on my back, grabbing Blaze's lower lip to try and stay on.

When Blaze landed, I was still screaming for a few extra seconds. Looking around, I saw that we were atop the plateau. Wide-eyed and breathing rapidly, I took a few moments to realize what happened.

"You scared the Hel outta me!" I shouted at the Nightmare, "Don't do that again!"

Blaze looked towards the ground and I quickly felt bad about my harsh tone. "I'm sorry," I apologized, "I just wasn't expecting you to start giving me a lift and I was scared. Forgive me?"

Blaze nuzzled me gently. "I'll take that as a yes."

The plateau was full of tall strong trees, taller than I actually needed this time. _'If Blaze sticks around, I'd have exclusive access to a lot of quality timber.'_ Eventually, I found the perfect tree, young and wide.

"If I cut this one down, do you think you can fly it back to camp?"

Blaze huffed some smoke as if insulted.

* * *

><p>After that first, terrifying flight, I still had to ride Blaze back down from the plateau. That second flight was so incredible, that we kept flying after dropping off my log. I held his horns for stability, but I didn't try to control Blaze. I trusted him to keep me safe in the sky, in his domain. Landing was a little rough that evening, but as long as Blaze was willing, I would ride. I would get better too.<p>

The following days passed in a happy blur. Flying on Blaze, fishing, working on my Journeyman project, just goofing around with my first real friend, everything.

Finally, five days after I arrived on Little Skull, my sculpture was ready for transport. I suspected that Blaze was jealous that I was carving a different dragon, but at least he didn't set it on fire. _'I need to get back to the village, but I don't want to leave Blaze either.'_

Blaze was a big help getting my sculpture back to the boat. After it was secured, we went flying until the stars came out. When we finally landed at camp to prepare our last dinner together, I knew I had to explain the situation.

"Listen Blaze, in the morning, I need to get back to my village. I wish we could stay together, but you should get back to your own family, your own tribe or nest or whatever you call it."

Blaze made a sad whine and curled closer around me. It never ceased to amaze me just how expressive my large friend could be.

"Then again, I do visit this island a lot to collect wood for projects. If you stayed here, I could come visit you. We could play and fish and go flying. You'd have to be careful to not let the other carpenters see you though."

Blaze made a friendly growl at that suggestion and nuzzled me with his scaly snout. I rubbed his favorite scratching spot and he rumbled in content. "I guess we'll do the second option."

* * *

><p><strong>Mousetail's POV (age 10)<strong>

A year has passed since I delivered my Journeyman project. A year since I broke Viking law and befriended a dragon. I visited Blaze every night and didn't even bother going home if I could help it. I had slowly built up a stockpile of supplies and equipment on the Little Skull plateau, making a permament camp for the two of us. It had gotten to the point where I was living on Little Skull instead of in the village.

My parents barely noticed the change. After all, Dad either saw me as a punching bag when drunk or tried to ignore me while sober. Mom knew that much, at least, and figured I was trying to avoid Dad as much as humanly possible for a ten year old. My reputation as 'the village ghost' was actually useful.

Things started to go downhill when Mom died. I grieved for her, but probably less than I should have. Dad expected me to keep the house in her place, so I had to quit people-watching. I was also having trouble juggling my visits to Blaze and work for Lars. Spending more time at "home" also meant more quality time with Dad during his drunken rages.

One night, the inevitable happened, Dad caught me trying to sneak out of the house to visit Blaze. He was drunk again, but somehow, hadn't passed out yet. He started to beat me in the middle of the lane.

My screams called the neighbors outside. Tears in my eyes, I begged for him to stop, to remember where he was. I tried to get away, but the blows kept coming. The other villagers watched in disbelief. Lars came and tried to stop Dad. I took the opportunity to get some extra distance from them.

An enormous roar, full of fury and outrage, echoed over the village. I watched through swollen eyes as Blaze landed between me and the grappling men. His pupils were narrowed into thin vertical slits, long teeth gleaming in the moonlight. For the first time, I saw the demon that the adults always said dragons were.

Dad broke free of Lars and tried to run from the dragon, staggering in his drunken state. Blaze probably smelled my blood on his fists. Dad couldn't outrun Blaze's fire. He shrieked in agony and ran in a blind panic. The other villagers scattered, some for weapons to fight the dragon, others for water to try and save the dying man. Lars tried to move towards me, but Blaze wouldn't let him.

_'If Blaze stays here, they'll try to kill him. But he's here to protect me, so...'_

Before Lars could stop me, I climbed onto Blaze's neck and we flew back to our camp on Little Skull.


	3. Prologue 3

**Prologue 3 - The Liberator**

**Mousetail's POV (age 10)**

Things were so messed up. My best friend had just roasted my last surviving relative and I had just run away with him. I knew that Blaze was just trying to protect me. He probably didn't even know that I was related to the human he just attacked. Even when I was treating my injuries, it felt like I was just going through the motions.

I was definitely in shock for the first couple days on Little Skull. Just doing what I needed to stay alive while I tried to process everything that happened. My little big secret was out. Dad was probably dead, but the only way to know would be to return to the village. If I hadn't been banished or disowned yet, I would be soon.

On the morning of the third day, I heard someone calling my name. Blaze heard it too. I climbed onto his back and we checked the shore for warships. Only a single rowboat was beached on the sand. There were no ships on the surrounding waters either.

Someone shouted my name again and Blaze veered towards the sound. We found Lars hiking through the forest and landed nearby. Lars saw us and approached, clearly surprised to see me riding a dragon and mostly healed.

Lars was wearing his armor and shield. A battleaxe was strapped to his back. Blaze stood defensively beside me, ready to attack our guest if necessary.

"What are you doing here Lars?" I asked, already half-knowing the answer.

Lars looked between me and Blaze before answering. "I came to take you home."

I just snorted and crossed my arms. "To the village? I've been living on Little Skull for over a year now, rowing back and forth every day. That **home** is just a shell of the word."

"If this is about your father -"

"He's just the biggest nail in that coffin!" I shouted back, "I was born small, remember? That means the other kids either ignored me or attacked me. My Dad beat me and Mom just ignored it. EVERYONE IGNORED IT! Don't even try to insult me with that 'but we didn't know' crap. With the attacks I've dealt with, you'd have to deaf, blind, AND dumb to miss it."

"But running away with a dragon?" Lars countered, "Are you crazy? He'll eat you alive!"

I shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet. We both have wants and needs. We help each other satisfy both."

"HE KILLED YOUR FATHER!" Lars shouted, "Burnt him alive! He succumbed to his burns yesterday."

It took me a moment to absorb that fact. Abuser or not, family is family. _'But did I truly see him as family?'_ I shook my head.

"I won't shed any tears for him," I declared proudly.

Lars looked like he had been sucker-punched. "You can't mean that."

"I do." I stood a little straighter. "If I accepted that scum as family, then I'd have to also accept that family beats the crap out of family. I won't do that."

"But dragons are vicious, blood-thirsty, monsters," Lars argued, "You should see them in the Carnival!"

That broke my resolve. I uncrossed my arms and asked, "What?"

"That dragon show you've always wanted to see? It's a death-match," Lars explained, "Two dragons enter, one **might** come out alive. Dragonroot really pushes their viciousness. Lots of people come to the Skullgaze Islands just to bet on the fights."

I looked at Blaze, picturing him in an arena, half-mad from Dragonroot and trying to kill another dragon. Dozens of humans watching them from above, making bets on who would win and who would die. I felt like throwing up. All this time, Blaze wasn't the monster in our relationship, I was.

"You aren't even equipped to run away," Lars tried to reason with me, "Chief Derek is still deliberating between banishing or branding you. I'll take you as a worker and you can stay with me at the Wood Mill."

"You're wrong," I whispered, still trying to keep my stomach down, "Derek the Dazzler doesn't do charity. He does whatever makes the biggest spectacle. My punishment will be fast and permament, likely one death for another."

I turned to look my master in the eye for the last time. Taking off my helmet, I spoke very clearly and honestly, "I'm sorry boss, but I will not return with you or any other Viking. It's time I made my own fate." I tossed the helmet to Lars and climbed onto Blaze, soaring back into the free sky. Lars shouted for me to return, but stubornness was the only Viking trait I had.

* * *

><p>That afternoon, I packed up the essentials from my plateau camp. Staying on Little Skull was simply too risky. If Lars reported our meeting (like I suspected he would) then the Cutthroats would easily find us as well. They might not be able to reach our camp, but they would make it hard to gather food and water.<p>

"We'll have to find a new home," I explained to Blaze, "We'd only find the same biggotry and predjudice on the mainland, so we'll go to the northern islands. There should be plenty of places that humans can't reach on their own. We'll find one and return for the rest of the equipment once things settle down."

Blaze looked at me, but he wasn't really listening.

"What is it?"

Blaze looked towards the distant island of Greater Skull.

"Oh no. I have zero ties to that place. There isn't a man alive that can -"

Blaze looked me in the eye and shook his head. He then turned back to Greater Skullgaze and gave a mournful roar.

"Not the men, but the dragons..."

Blaze looked at me and nodded. I sighed. _'The Cutthroats have kept those dragons secure for my entire life. Getting in wouldn't be easy. Getting out would be harder. Freeing dragons I've never met before without getting killed sounds almost impossible.'_

_ 'But it would be nice to do something worth remembering before I go...'_

"If we're really going to do this, we'll need a plan."

* * *

><p>Blaze dropped me off in the forest and waited for me to get to my position. I was still sticky from Blaze's tongue bath. It took a little while before I realized that I needed to smell like Blaze to the other dragons. I was still going to have to bathe for a week after this.<p>

I crept through the shadows on the village outskirts. There was a new moon out tonight. Only the stars and torches could reveal my presence, which would have been disasterous for me and the dragons. But I was the village ghost. I had trained for this night my whole life.

Everyone was talking about how I had 'turned traitor' or 'killed my father with a wild dragon'. They all thought I was gone for good, that I'd never dare show my face again, under penalty of death. That last one would be true soon enough.

The dragon pens were modeled after a barn. They sat next to the arena, promising either a great victory or a painful death. I could hear the head dragon handler taunting the dragons with his dinner. I stuck to the shadows, finding a small hole to survey the interior.

The head dragon handler was a large Viking with black hair and a flat brow. He held a fish in his left hand, showing off his slavemark in the torchlight. He almost seemed like a Neanderthal, probably from Ugliithug heritage. Several dragons were muzzled with belts and in cages. I didn't recognize most of them. _'Hobblegrunt, Nadder, that one might be a very young Timberjack.'_ The only dragons that weren't muzzled were much smaller and shared a large cage of much tighter bars. _'Hatchlings. Definitely can't leave without them.'_

I spotted the cell key on the wall near the barn doors. One of the Nadders caught my scent and looked around. I backed away from the hole and waited for Blaze to start the mission.

I'm not sure how long I was waiting before the first cries of "FIRE!" and "Dragon Attack!" echoed across the village. I glanced around the corner of the barn and saw Blaze setting the catapults on fire. The teams working them were clearly out of practice, since all three of them were already engulfed in flames and unusable.

I heard Neanderthal march towards the barn doors and off into the night. Once the coast was clear, I slipped inside and grabbed the key. The hatchlings began to squawk excitedly and the older dragons perked up as well. _'A human that smells like a Monstrous Nightmare must be strange to them.'_

I walked over to the closest cage and jammed the key into the lock. Someone behind me cleared their throat and I turned around in a panic. It was Aesop.

"You know that those dragons may kill you," Aesop chided, closing the barn door behind him.

"If you're here to talk me out of this, don't even bother trying," I warned Aesop, trying to discretely open the lock.

"This reminds me of a story," Aesop started, "An escaped slave came across a lion in the forest. The slave turned to flee, but the lion didn't pursue. The slave was curious and returned to the lion. The lion revealed a thorn in his paw, which was bleeding and swollen. The lion could no longer walk or hunt. The slave, who had known suffering himself, removed the thorn. In gratitude, the lion became a loyal friend and fierce companion."

"Nice story," I complimented, removing the lock and opening the cell door, "I'm still helping these lions though."

"But they're not the lions in this story," Aesop hinted as he slipped back out the door, "You are."

I turned back to the doors, wondering if Aesop had really been there or not. Only when the released dragon, a two-legged one with purple scales, nudged me did I remember my purpose. I removed the belt binding the dragon's mouth and he gave a happy growl.

"Keep watch for visitors," I instructed the dragon, glancing at the door.

This dragon seemed to have been around people enough to understand me, crouching to attack anyone coming through the door. I continued around the barn, opening cages and removing muzzles. Once all the adults were free, I started to load the hatchlings into a large basket.

"WHAT THE HEL!?"

I turned to the barn doors and saw that the dragon handler had returned. The adult dragons roared and the purple dragon tossed the Viking into it's cage. A green Hobblegrunt squeezed into the cage and began to fight Neanderthal. _'Time's almost up.'_

The remaining adult dragons helped herd the hatchlings into the basket and I shouldered the basket onto my back. The barn was already on fire from the handler versus dragon duel. I led the dragons out of the barn and saw Blaze retreating towards Little Skull. I turned to the purple dragon next to me.

"Can I get a lift?" I asked. The dragon lowered itself and let me climb on. I had to keep one hand on the basket strap and another on one of the dragon's spines. "Try to keep it slow for the passengers," I reminded as I gave the dragon a gentle nudge.

* * *

><p>Once I was back on Little Skull with the rescued dragons, I set the basket on it's side to let the hatchlings run around. Then, I checked on Blaze. He had a few scratched scales, but nothing serious.<p>

"Did you get all of the catapults?" I asked. Blaze nodded. "And all the sails?" Another nod. "Then we should be safe until tomorrow evening, at least."

All of the dragons were celebrating their new freedom. Some flew off for fresh water or fish. Others doted over their hatchlings. A few more simply watched me and Blaze talk things over.

"We'll rest up tonight," I explained, "In the morning, we'll head north."

I washed off most of the Nightmare saliva with a bucket of water and filled the firepit with wood. Blaze lit the tinder and I leaned against my friend, watching the liberated dragons with amusement. Some of the hatchlings came over to investigate my true scent, but I didn't mind. The adrenaline from tonight was fading and I was feeling too tired to care. I knew the dragons wouldn't hurt me.

After all, I had removed the thorn in their paws.

* * *

><p>The next morning, I awoke surrounded by dragons. I wasn't too surprised that some stayed, but I thought more would have flown off the first chance they got. Several of the smaller dragons had curled up next to me. <em>'Their parents were probably already killed in the Carnival.'<em>

Most of the bigger dragons were still sleeping, so I just relaxed until they were awake. Last thing I needed was a pack of cranky dragons thinking I was still a Viking. Blaze lifted his head and regarded my situation with an amused expression.

"Are the fires in the village out?"

Blaze craned his long neck towards last night's raid, checking for smoke before nodding.

I sighed quietly. "How many of these guys do you think will follow us?" Blaze tilted his head at my question. "We need to find a place without other humans, at least until I'm old enough to not get recognized and choose a new name. Freeing a dozen fighting dragons is bound to get me a bounty or something. The more dragons that come with us, the more secure we'll be, but we'll also need more territory for fishing, which would be easier for Vikings to notice."

Blaze gave one of his apologetic whines, so I gave him a reassuring pat. "I'm not blaming you bud. I'm proud of what I -what we- did last night. I'm just trying to figure out the future."

I angled my neck towards the village that kept me down for the last ten years. Where I was abused, forgotten, ignored, and trapped. That place no longer held any power over me. There was nothing to keep me from jumping on Blaze and flying to the edge of the world. _'Nothing, except a pack of sleeping dragons!'_


	4. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - The Chosen**

**Wildheart's POV - Dovahro Vild, Hofkiin**

Sitting beside my fire, I stared at the recently made bounty letter in my hand. The sketch was once quite accurate. Now, it couldn't be further from the truth. I was surprised when Winter found it in a Dragon Trapper's Camp yesterday. _'I knew that some must have been made, but the fact that they're still looking for me. It has been six years...'_

_"You've been looking at that paper for a while Big Bro. Is that your next target?"_

I look up and see Luna, looking at me with nine-year-old curiosity. I smiled at her innocent question. I pass her the paper so she can see the sketch. She's been living with me on Dovahro Vild for a year now. With my help, she's learned to understand Dragonese and how to channel energy into magical objects, but she still has a lot of Dovahzul words to learn and can't cast her own spells yet.

_"This is one bounty that I can't claim," _I explain in English. This story is too important for Luna's limited Dovahzul. _"This bounty is for a young boy named Mousetail Heimgardt."_

Luna looked at the picture. _"Is he dead?"_

I had to laugh at that suggestion. _"I suppose it depends on your definition of the term. Young Mousetail was accused of selling his soul to a 'flying demon' and turning said demon loose upon his own father, killing him. In return, Mousetail freed another twelve adult dragons and fifteen hatchlings that belonged to his tribe. He was tried and found guilty in his absence and is now a fugitive, wanted dead or bandaged."_

_"Bandaged?"_ Luna asked confused. English was not my first language and sometimes, I still made mistakes.

_"I mean that they will also accept if this boy recieves the slavemark,"_ I defined, not trusting my vocabulary with Luna's native language.

_"You mean branded. That's bad."_ Luna looked at the boy in the picture with pity. Luna was born in a village in Northern England, but even she knew what a slavemark was.

_"I agree, but what they don't mention in the bounty letter is that the father was attacking Mousetail in a drunken rage. If the dragon hadn't intervened, Mousetail might have died that night instead."_

_"Then why is he in trouble,"_ Luna asked, genuinely puzzled.

I shrugged. _"Viking stubornness, I guess."_

_"So what happened to him?"_

_"Well, he knew that dragons knew the world better than him. He also knew that dragons could understand human languages. So, Mousetail gave a careful description of where he wanted to live. Someplace that humans couldn't normally land on. Someplace with fresh water, food, and lumber. Basically, someplace he could survive and still be with his scaly friends. The dragons knew just where to take the little human. Now, according to human law, the first person to land on a new island, names it. Do you know what he named that land?"_

Luna shook her head, brown hair dancing freely. I gently took the paper back from her. _'Time to blow her mind.'_

_"He named that island Dragons' Rock."_

I watched as she remembered the translation of this island's name. Her eyes went really wide and she gasped._ "So that boy and dragon was you and Blaze?"_

I nodded. _'Did I ever have any of that childhood wonder?'_

_"To avoid detection, I stayed on Dragon's Rock for three years. I only left for fishing or to salvage from wrecked ships, never letting a human see me while I still resembled myself. Things were difficult at first, but the dragons looked after me as one of their own. When I learned to understand Dragonese, the dragons told me the name that they addressed me with, modeled after my own custom. Wildheart the Chainbreaker. I am no longer this boy, and that is why I said it depends on your definition of 'dead'."_

_"So that's why you named your clan The Shattered Chain,"_ Luna realized,_ "And those 'escaped gladiators' were the other dragons!"_

I nodded. _"Most of the dragons took a liking to me and helped setup my homestead. Some preferred to leave and only visit once in a while. I detest lies, but I recognize the need to keep secrets among humans. Everything I've ever told you has been true, from my perspective."_

_"That flyer was in Norse,"_ Luna pointed out timidly, _"You were a Viking?"_

_"Child of Vikings,"_ I corrected, remembering her village's fate, _"Just one more consequence of birth. I was never treated as a Viking because I was small as a child. In return, I never acted like a Viking either. Mousetail Heimgardt was also known as Mousetail the Ghost because he commanded so little presence."_

Luna relaxed at my explanation. _"Are you worried that your tribe will find you one day?"_

I smiled at the question. _"Not at all. Since I left the Skullgaze Islands, I haven't shown my face to another human, save you. I always travel in disguise as the clan's trader, dying my hair black, and I don't look much like that picture anymore. Besides, I'm pretty sure the Cutthroats think I'm dead by now, and why actively look for a dead fugitive?"_

Luna started to giggle. _"They probably thought Blaze ate you as a midnight snack!"_

I joined in on the laughter, so happy that I had opened my heart to this little orphan girl.

* * *

><p><em>Later that evening...<em>

Luna was tucked into bed an hour ago and I was reading a copy of The Dragon Manual I had salvaged from the Trapper's Camp. It was always so hilarious to see what the Vikings considered to be the latest 'facts' about dragons. _'Maybe I'll write a more accurate Dragon Manual one of these days. Who'd read it though? Only Luna.'_

A knock at the door made me jump out of my skin. _'One of the dragons probably, just trying to be funny.'_ I mark my place in the book and walk towards the door. There was more knocking.

::Keep it down, will you? Luna is trying to sleep.:: I opened the door, expecting to find Nelru or Blaze.

Instead, an old man is smiling down at me. He's wearing a floppy hat, eyepatch, and a blue-grey cloak. His walking stick is as tall as him. Long white hair falls from his scalp and face.

"Strength and honor, Wildheart Chainbreaker," the old man greets me in perfect Norse, "May I come in?"

A sense of dread washes over me. _'I haven't spoken Norse since I took my dragons' name as my own. How does he know I would understand it?'_ I glance over my shoulder towards Luna's bedroom.

The old man catches it. "I promise, on my honor, that I mean no harm to you, Luna Thatcher, or any dragon living on this island."

I relax a little bit and let the stranger in. _'I need to find out how much he knows.'_

The old man walks over to the dinner table and sets aside his hat and staff. He produces a bottle of wine and a silver goblet from his cloak, sitting down like this was his own home. "I would offer you some, but I know that you swore an oath of sobriety. Completely understandable, after your father."

My hands leap to my swords, Iisk and Jusk. "How do you know about my father?" I demand angrily in Norse.

The man chuckles. "Where are my manners, I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? I am Odin All-Father. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

I froze at the bold proclamation. _'Claiming to be a god, let alone the head of any pantheon, is just asking to be smited.' _I stayed ready to attack as I walked around the table. 'Odin' was pouring himself some wine, completely unconcerned with my aggressive stance.

Finally, I found my voice again. "You're Odin? I find that hard to believe."

Odin took a sip from his goblet before answering. "But you can't think of a way to safely prove or refute my claim. If I am Odin and you deny it, you could be in trouble. If I'm not Odin and you believe it, you could be in trouble. Any knowledge you could challenge me with, could have been researched. Any knowledge that can't be researched, can't be proven right or wrong."

_'Damn, he's right. I can't see a solution to that problem yet.'_

I remove my hands from my swords and take the seat opposite of 'Odin'. "Alright then... sir. Why have you come to my home?"

'Odin' smiled slightly. "Have you ever heard of a place called Berk?"

I nodded. "It's not too far from here on dragonback. The tribe that lives there are Vikings and dragon killers, though. So I have two reasons to hate and avoid them."

'Odin' nodded sadly. "They have forsaken knowledge and wisdom in favor of a hopeless war against the dragons. But the dragons are forced to raid the village and the Hooligans deal with each attack as it comes."

I snorted at the notion. "Ridiculous. Dragons hunt and fish better than humans. Why would they risk their lives to act like common bandits?"

'Odin' smiled at that. "Which is why you're going to Berk."

I could feel all emotion drop from my face and splatter across the floor. "What?"

"The Norns have seen it. The 300-year war will end in the next two months. If the humans win the war, the dragon nest will be wiped out. If the dragons win the 'war' and wipe out Berk, the dragon nest will still be wiped out. You will travel to Berk to save the dragons and Vikings from themselves. You will work to find a third solution to this war."

_'That makes no sense.'_

"Why me?" I asked, "I'm not a Viking."

"You never chose a new religion, so you are still subject to our authority," the old man explained, peering over his goblet, ::And also, because you are Dragonfriend.::

_'That last part was in Dovahzul!' _I just stared at him, stunned.

Odin drained his goblet and prepared to leave. "You will depart at sunset tomorrow. Take Blaze, Spectre, and Winter. The others must remain here for now. When you arrive at Berk, you will appreciate just how dire the situation is."

"And I suppose that you're not going to explain any further, like what this third solution could be or what I'm supposed to do when I arrive," I complained as Odin walked towards the door.

"The future is not mine to know," Odin explained, resting a hand on the doorknob, "And the dragons follow different gods, so we cannot intervene on their side anymore than their gods can intervene on ours. The Norns want a rider on Berk, so it is to Berk you shall fly."

Odin opened the door and left, leaving me to try and understand the situation. _'He had gotten onto Dragons' Rock, so he should be able to leave just as easily.'_

_'I don't like this. Was that really Odin, or another Dragonfriend posing as him? The situation on Berk does sound pretty bad though. Would the gods be angry if I went anyways, just to check out the situation for myself?'_

* * *

><p><strong>Luna's POV - Dovahro Vild, Home<strong>

The next morning, I found Big Bro studying his map in his library corner. He made that map by exploring and referencing stolen pirate maps. It was definitely the most accurate map of the Northern Sea. _'That can only mean one thing. He's planning a trip.'_

::Good morning Big Bro,:: I call out, practicing my Dovahzul.

He turns around with a small smile. ::Good morning Sister. Did you sleep well?::

::Yes!:: I walk over to the kitchen and start eating my porridge.

About halfway through my porridge, Big Bro confirms my suspicions. ::Luna, I'll be leaving on a trip later today, and I don't know how long I'll be gone this time.::

::Why so soon?:: I asked, ::You'd normally prepare for two or three days before a long trip.::

Big Bro shifted uncomfortably. ::I found some rather ... disturbing information last night. I need to check it out as soon as possible.::

::Oh,:: I said sadly. I hated when Big Bro had to leave, but I still had the dragons for company.

He walked over and gave me a hug. ::Don't worry. With luck, the information will be false and I'll return the day after tomorrow.::

I hugged my adoptive brother back. ::Who are you bringing with you?::

::Just Blaze, Spectre, and Winter. The others will stay here with you to protect our home.::

I sagged a little bit in disappointment, but I knew he would be safe. _'Blaze has the strength, Spectre has the stealth, Winter has the maneuverable size, and Bro has the strategy. No Viking or dragon can beat them.'_

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed in a blur. Preparing the clan for Bro's indefinite absence, packing supplies and medicines, making sure the house was fully stocked. All too soon, the sun was setting and Big Bro was making his final checks.<p>

Blaze, the dark orange Flame Body, was the strongest and hauling most of the supplies. The tent, blankets, fishing/hunting gear, extra waterskins, and other things to make the trip more pleasant. He was Bro's first dragon. He was obviously the most loyal dragon in the entire clan, but the human name for his species, Monstrous Nightmare, was so different from the Blaze I knew. _'One scaly puppy.'_

Spectre, the bright red Clearscale, was wearing the longneck saddle (designed to be used with her or Blaze) and would be carrying Big Bro and Winter. Her saddlebags were filled with the 'need-it-now' type supplies. Medicines, bandages, arrows, things like that. She was the first dragon I'd ever met and the first one I befriended. She used her blending ability to save me from some bandits. _'At least Changewing makes more sense.'_

Winter the Frost Wyrm was riding on Bro's back and shoulders, watching him adjust the saddlestraps. Winter was about three feet long with white scales. Bro said she was from a place called Chai-na, but it would take her a year to get back on her own. Instead of trying, Winter chose to stay with Bro when he left home. Not even Bro tried to pronounce the human name for her species, but it translated into "Guardian of the Frozen Peaks". _'Whichever island Bro is on, so is Winter.'_

Bro was dressed in his quilted armor with dragon scales stitched inside, his Clearscale cloak, and his usual belt of supplies. The two swords and recurve bow distorted the flow of his cloak from underneath, but it was more dangerous to travel unarmed, even with dragons for company. Big Bro was not quite human any more, but definitely not a dragon either.

He was ready to fly off again, but I still didn't want him to go. I rushed up and hugged him. ::Please don't go.::

Spectre rumbled sadly. ::It's okay. We'll be back soon.:: I still didn't let go.

::I'll check in with the looking glass at sunset, everyday,:: Big Bro promised.

::Promise you'll come home safe?::

::Of course,:: he agreed.

::If things get rough, we'll get rough right back!:: Blaze roared proudly.

::We'll be back before you know it,:: Winter whispered soothingly, ::Try not to sink the island.:: I giggled as Big Bro pulled me from his leg and knelt in front of me.

::I can only leave because I know that you'll keep this place from falling apart,:: Bro comforted me, ::I wish that I could stay too, but I have to go.::

I felt my eyes watering. _'Big girls don't cry. Big girls don't cry.'_ I did my best to put on a brave face and gave him a big hug.

::Fly free and strike true,:: I whispered the dragon departure blessing.


	5. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - The Party Crasher**

**Wildheart's POV - Open Sky**

::I still can't believe I'm doing this,:: I muttered to myself as we flew through the evening sky.

::Like you said,:: Winter reminded me, ::Only a fool would refuse a god and it IS better to err on the side of caution.::

::We'll go into this carefully,:: Spectre advised, ::If things are as bad as you've been told, we'll help as best we can. If it's nonsense, we'll leave. Maybe rescue their training dragons on the way out.::

::The fastest way to find out would be for me to actually enter the village and get an answer from the Vikings themselves,:: I pointed out, ::Spectre's camoflague should let her follow me as long as I'm outdoors. I'll need to come up with a good backstory though.::

::You once said that the best lies have an element of truth to them,:: Blaze reminded me, ::You'll also want a new name. I doubt they've heard of either Wildheart or Mousetail, but I'd rather not have a strong pursuit if we have to run.:: I nodded in agreement.

::I say you call yourself Fierce-Fist!:: Winter suggested.

::Not bad,:: Blaze admitted, ::But we can do better.::

::What about Fierce-Eye?:: Spectre suggested, ::After the sponsor of this little jaunt?::

I smirked at the suggestion. _'Shouldn't piss anyone off. If anything, it might call some divine attention to my predicament.'_

::Okay, I need to work out the details of my history,:: I agreed to the false name, ::I was banished from my tribe for not killing a dragon. I can never return.::

::Why didnae kill that dragon?:: Blaze asked with a gruff Viking accent.

I smirked at the impression. ::Six years ago, a man was about to kill me for being the village runt, but a dragon killed the man first. My inaction let that dragon escape and I was banished for my weakness.::

::Sounds like typical Viking logic to me,:: Spectre agreed, ::Why are you on Berk?::

::I woke up on a remote beach a couple days ago, after my boat sank, damaged in a Tide Sire- Thunderdrum, a Thunderdrum attack,:: I slipped on the dragon name for the species, ::I only just found this village.::

::You have odd equipment,:: Winter pointed out, ::Especially that mask. Where'd you get it?::

::I'd better leave the mask with you guys,:: I removed the mask and tucked it into a saddlebag. ::Most of my equipment was crafted by myself, from the bodies of dragons. I needed to replace what has been lost or destroyed over the last six years.::

::That's pretty good,:: Spectre declared, ::If only they knew those components were naturally shed.::

The four of us laughed at the Vikings' expense. A set of harbor markers shined in the distant dark.

::Let's find a secure position for our camp,:: I instructed, ::Then in the morning, it's show time.::

After surveying the island, we decided to set our base camp on the peak over the arena. There was no easy ground access, Blaze and Winter would be able to slip away over the forest or intervene in town as needed. For a dragon, it was close to everything and far from nothing.

The only position that might see us was a distant hut, built on another peak. It didn't seem to have any windows facing this way, but anyone descending the walkways would eventually face this way. _'I'll have to get a better look in the morning, but it should still be too far for human eyes, especially at night.'_

By the time the dragons were unburdened, it was pretty late. Starting a campfire was too risky with the odd shack on that peak. I didn't bother to setup my tent, curling into Blaze's side for warmth.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV - Haddock Household<strong>

I awoke with a start to the sound of voices shouting outside. I tugged on my fur vest and ran downstairs. _'There are only two possibilities for so much noise._' I grabbed the door handle. _'Either the twins have achieved a new ultimate prank, or we're having a raid by-'_ I opened the door and saw a Monstrous Nightmare chasing some sheep. It spotted me and sprayed a blast of flame. I closed the door just in time to avoid becoming ash.

"Dragons."

Once the flames died down, I carefully opened the door again. No dragons nearby. _'I better get to the forge and help Gobber.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Stoick's POV - Village Exterior<strong>

I stepped out of the main lane with growing displeasure. The devils were attacking anything that moves, and the main thoroughfare was filled with targets. A boy almost runs into the killing field, but I pull him back before the latest Nadder flames him. It's only when he's safely in my hand do I recognize my own son.

"HICCUP!" I was furious! It was too dangerous for my son to be out. "What is he doing out - what are you doing out? Get back inside!"

I set Hiccup back down on his feet and shove him towards a safer path. The torches should be lit soon, but we need to counter-attack now. There's a group of Deadly Nadders fluttering over some sheep. I grab a nearby cart and throw, taking down one of the wretched beasts. Ack the Runner has appeared before me and I ask for a status report.

"Gronkles, Nadders, Zipplebacks, oh, and Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare."

An Zippleback explosion down the lane makes Ack hide under his shield. I watch the cold-blooded murderers swarm each other. Some flaming debris lands on my shoulder and I brush it off.

"Any Night Furies?" The raids are always so much worse when those devils are around.

"None so far."

"Good."

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Base Camp<strong>

::Wildheart! Wake up you lazy human!::

Winter's voice made me open my eyes, but the flames and roars of the dragons attacking Berk really woke me up. A series of tall torches had been lit, revealing the swarm to the defending humans.

::What the Hel!?:: I asked, leaping to my feet.

::The dragons really are raiding the village!:: Blaze declared.

::That's the most absurd thing I've ever seen!:: Spectre added.

_'I was not expecting this. A lone dragon raiding a fishing boat or a hunting camp in an emergency is one thing, but this is a full out invasion! It's clearly been an on-going problem if they built those torches.'_

I hopped onto Spectre's neck, without bothering to put the saddle back on. ::I need to get down there,:: I explained, ::And be careful! We still don't know what's going on.::

Spectre glided down to the bridge connecting the arena to the village and let me off. She blended into the surroundings and I activated my Clearscale cloak, becoming just as invisible. Blaze flew towards the swarming dragons, just another Flame Body in the raid, only he wouldn't be doing anything but observe ... I hope. Winter had to stay at camp, her foreign species would have been too obvious.

::I'll have to reveal myself at some point during this madness,:: I explained to Spectre as we rushed into town, ::It'd be too hard to explain why I wouldn't notice all this any sooner.::

::Just don't be stupid,:: Spectre admonished me.

::Don't worry. They're just Vikings. How smart can they get?::

* * *

><p><strong>Blaze's POV - Dragon Swarm over Berk Village<strong>

Flying in the swarm of dragons was proving to be difficult. Avoiding mid-air collisons alone took a lot of concentration. Then, there was the occasional boulder. I've never flown in such troubled skies before.

Fortunately, every dragon was too focused on fighting or stealing food. Every Viking was focused on fighting or protecting the village resources. By flying high and avoiding conflict, I was easily overlooked by everyone.

_'It looks like there are only four species of dragons raiding. Why are they taking red meat though? The fish, sure. Birds, maybe. Boar, in a pinch. But sheep, yaks, and humans? Disgusting!'_

Another Flame Body lit herself on fire and climbed one of the catapult towers, fighting a particularly large Viking. A high-pitched whistling made every Viking on the ground duck for cover. _'Wildheart would love having that kind of intimidation.'_

The lit Flame Body leapt off of the burning tower moments before a blue fireball exploded into it. The Vikings manning the catapult leapt for safety. Soon, another blast struck the tower, collapsing the structure under it's own weight.

_'What dragon did that?'_

I tried to get a better look at the catapult wreaker, but they were much faster than me, blending into the night sky. _'Whoever that is, they're focused on the catapults. Good thing Wildheart has no reason to go near them.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Village Exterior<strong>

The village streets were filled with warriors, both Vikings and dragons alike. I almost got run over by a group of teenagers as they tried to save a burning house. _'It's been a while since I've seen humans my own age. Most of the pirates and bandits I face are much older.'_

I ducked into some sort of workshop, invisible (to humans) under my Clearscale cloak. A large man was lecturing a rather small boy, likely his apprentice.

"Stay. Put. There," instructed the man, who was missing a hand and a foot. His tone made it clear that he didn't expect the young man to actually obey. "You know what I mean."

I had to step back outside when the Viking let out a battlecry, charging into the fight. _'A single person my own age would make for a better introduction.'_ I was about to drop my concealment and re-join the apprentice when he also charged out of the shop, pushing some sort of wheelbarrow.

"Hiccup!"

"Get back here!"

"Sorry," apologized the teen, "Be right back!"

_'He's too fast to catch and keep my cloak closed. Maybe I should find and help those firefighting teens instead.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Spectre's POV - Sheep Field<strong>

This night was getting weirder by the minute. Most dragons prefered white meat, yet every dragon I've seen has been trying to get ANY meat.

_'Why are these Spinetails so obsessed with these fluffy little sheep? There can't be enough quality meat on them for all this trouble. They should be chasing birds or fish!'_

A group of Vikings tossed a net on top of a cluster of three Spinetails and a half dozen sheep. None of the Vikings had any weapons, attempting to subdue and capture the dragons. _'Why though? I thought the Vikings here were dragon slayers.'_

One of the Spinetail's fires a burst of flame before a Viking clamps his mouth shut. "Mind yourselves, the devils still got some juice left in them!"

* * *

><p><strong>Blaze's POV - Quiet Cliffside<strong>

_'This is one smart dragon. He uses his dark coloring and speed to hide in plain sight, striking easy-to-hit, valuable targets. Lining up each approach and planning his exit ahead of time. I know Wildheart would like to meet him or her.'_

There was only one catapult tower left, currently unmanned since the raiding dragons were out of it's range. Once it was gone, I was hoping that the wreaker dragon would slow down enough for me to speak with them.

A small boy ran onto a nearby bluff and setup some sort of siege weapon. _'Why am I feeling so nostalgic all of a sudden?'_ I landed on the underside of the cliff face to avoid detection and better observe him.

"Give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at," begged the familiar boy.

Someone must have answered the boy's prayers as he fell silent. Wood creaked quietly as the child began to aim. I could sense the catapult wreaker's presence, but not the where exactly. _'I could warn the dragon, but Wildheart said to avoid intervening. That weapon can't be part of the village defenses to have a child manning it. How dangerous could it be?'_

The tower behind me exploded in a fireball, momentarily revealing the dragon. Before my senses could adjust, a dragon shrieked. In the growing pre-dawn light, I saw a mass fall towards the larger island, screeching in fear. _'So much for harmless. I better wreak that weapon. It could be trouble in the future.'_

"Oh yes I hit it!" the boy exclaimed as I climbed over the cliff's edge. His back was turned towards me as he looked for witnesses. "Did anybody see that?"

::I saw it,:: I grumbled, stomping the weapon into splinters.

The boy turned around and the excitement fell from his face. "Except for you," he deadpanned.

_'That humor! It's like Wildheart when we first met!'_

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Village Exterior<strong>

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

::PLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!::

I looked up at the distant cliff, illuminated by a burning tower nearby. A Flame Body is snapping at someone, not really trying to catch him. The human is running away, likely towards the village for help. _'Blaze, I'm going to tan your tail if that really is you.' _No one is around, so I drop my concealment and race through the village at full speed.

* * *

><p><strong>Spectre's POV - Sheep Field<strong>

I turned towards the familiar roar. _'Blaze wouldn't be Blaze if he didn't play all the time. I just wish he could focus on the mission a little more.'_

One of the Vikings I'm watching sighs heavily. "Do NOT let them escape!" he orders the other Vikings as he runs off to aid Blaze's unwilling playmate.

I listened in as the remaining Vikings began to secure the Spinetails to add to their collection. _'So, they are collecting dragons to train their children. We were going to free those dragons either way. I better stay out of sight and get more information.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Blaze's POV - Village Exterior<strong>

::Not that way silly boy,:: I growled, spraying fire to guide my new friend back to the village plaza. ::Not that way either!:: The other Wildheart hid behind one of the large torches.

_ 'If he would just get back to the village clearing already...'_

"PAROK-VIING!"

_'Uh-oh! Wild Name call. I'm in trouble.'_

Wildheart jumped out of a side lane and forced my head to the ground. I could smell his displeasure before he ever said anything. ::Are you CRAZY!? The Vikings will think you're attacking that kid!::

I tried to justify myself, but the words failed me. ::But, I just, he -::

My friend wasn't willing or able to hear my explanation with a human so close. ::Nevermind! Just fly away and circle back to the camp over the forest, NOW!::

Wildheart threw my head away from him, jumping back. To any witnesses, I had just thrown Wildheart off of me. I saw a large Viking running up towards us, looking furious. _'I need to make Wildheart look like a hero.'_

::Raise your cloak!:: I roared at Wildheart. His eyes widen in recognition of my plan and he wraps himself protectively in the red cloak.

I spray my fire at Wildheart, making it look like I had run out. The dragonscales will keep him safe. I flew away, looking back at the Viking who had come to fight me. His pace had slowed as he approached the 'stranger who saved a village boy'.

* * *

><p><strong>Stoick's POV - Village Exterior<strong>

"Hiccup! I told you to get inside!" I shouted. My fear for his safety faded into anger at my disobedient son. Hiccup refused to make eye-contact, realizing that he was in trouble.

_'Thank the gods he's alright though. He didn't cause any disasters either.' _

The remaining dragons were flying away as the sky lightened. The actual damages and stolen inventory still had to be assessed, but it looks like we got off relatively light this time.

Flames licked at a bundle of red dragon scales nearby. I knew that a person was in there, someone who fought off a Monstrous Nightmare. Somehow, the bundle was still standing; not slumped over or screaming in pain. I approached cautiously, adjusting the grip on my hammer while the rest of the tribe gathered around.

"Are you alive in there?" I asked.

"Alive, but very hot!" called back a young male voice from the bundle, "Can I get some water over here? Please!?"

_ 'I've only known one person to wear a dragonscale cloak, but that cloak was green and Drago is definitely bigger than this.'_

I spotted the fire brigade nearby and waved them over. A couple of buckets later, and the flames were gone. The bundle sighed in relief.

"The fire's gone," I informed the bundle, "Come out and explain yourself."

The bundle slowly unwrapped itself to reveal a young man in his mid- teens with black hair, tied in a warriors topknot. Blue eyes scan his surroundings for threats, but the dragons have left. He stood at an average height for his apparent age, but with a confidence and maturity far greater than the village teens (especially the twins). Weapons were hidden beneath his cloak, distroting it's flow, and only a chestpiece of quilted leather armor peeked through the opening in the front. _'Definitely not a Hooligan, but he did fend that Nightmare away from my son.'_

The teen looked up at me, apparently nervous about meeting me, in front of the entire village no less. "Uh, hi."

"Who are you?" I asked with authority in my voice. Most of the villagers are watching with curiosity.

"I'm Fierce-Eye," declared the youth. Hiccup had walked up behind me, eying the newcomer. "My boat sank and I woke up a couple days ago on the beach. I didn't even know that there was a village around until I heard the dragon attack."

"That's an interesting cloak," Hiccup observed, "May I?"

Fierce-Eye held up a section of the cloak and I saw more quilted armor and a pair of sheathed swords on his left hip. The castaway also had more muscle than most of the teens (Only Snotlout had more muscle than Fierce-Eye). Hiccup took the section and began to study it.

"Awful young to be traveling alone," I pointed out, "Was anyone else with you?"

"No," Fierce-Eye admitted, slightly crestfallen, "I was banished six years ago."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. The villagers began to murmur in confusion. _'He would have been about ten years old! What could a child do to deserve such a death sentence? Better question, how could a child survive alone for six years?'_

"Be careful, if you keep doing that you'll -"

FWOOSH!

Hiccup backed away from Fierce-Eye, who's cloak was again on fire.

"- re-ignite the residual dragon spit," Fierce-Eye deadpanned, not very concerned that most of his cloak was again on fire.

I sighed before waving for another bucket of water. Some of the villagers were chuckling as Fishlegs put out the flaming cloak.

I glared at my son. "Sorry, dad." Fierce-Eye raised an eyebrow as his eyes darted between us.

"Get back to the house," I instructed Hiccup, "I have a raid to clean-up." I look around and spot Gobber, "Take our guest to the Great Hall for some food. I'll hear his full story later."


	6. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - The Recruit**

**Hiccup's POV - Village Exterior**

_'I don't believe it. I shoot down a Night Fury and I can't even work up the nerve to tell my Dad! The whole village was right there ... and they probably wouldn't have listened. They never listen.'_

The fire brigade ignored me as I walked by, more interested in Fierce-Eye. At least that was better than the usual 'Walk of Shame'. The twins complimenting my accidental destruction. Snotlout rubbing salt into the wound. Fishlegs and Astrid watching me, but never saying anything.

_'If I can't work up the nerve to tell them myself, I'll just have to go get proof. The dragon should still be at Raven's Point. If I find it, I can bring the heart to my father!'_

I quickened my pace to grab some supplies from home. My journal, my dagger, maybe some breakfast.

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Great Hall<strong>

Gobber got me some food and had me sit at a corner table. I took off my cloak to let Blaze's residue evaporate. I wanted to be ready to move in a hurry, so I sat on the table instead of the bench. My feet were firmly planted on the traditional seat, ready to spring away if the Vikings decided to try something. If anything, it contributed to my image of a feral teenager as I ate my bread and grits.

Paranoid? Maybe, but Spectre had to stay outside and the Hall was filling with Vikings. Vikings that had just fought off a massive raid. A raid by dragons, like my clanmates. I still don't understand that.

_'The risk-reward of attacking a village is crazy bad. It would only get worse as the years go by and the Vikings develop new countermeasures, like those torches. If the local fishing and hunting were that bad, the dragons should have flown off to find better territory. Something must be keeping them here, but what?'_

My cloak managed to dry during the meeting and I put it back on. Once I polished off the last of my food, I listened closer to the meeting and nursed my water.

"Either we finish them or they'll finish us!" declared the Viking chief, "If we find the nest and take it, the dragons will leave. They'll find another home!" He drove a dagger into the corner of a local seachart. "One more search, before the ice sets in."

_ 'And that new home could be on top of your heads. Routing dragons from their home would be difficult, but it sounds like they can't even get there.'_

"Those ships never come back," complained someone in the crowd.

_'So don't go.'_

"We're Vikings, it's an occupational hazard," countered the chief, "Now who's with me?" He raised a fist to try and rally his village.

"Today's not good for me."

"I've got to do my axe returns."

_'So maybe they're not as stupid as I thought they were.'_

"Alright. Those who stay, will look after Hiccup." Every adult immediately raises their hand to go on the apparent suicide mission.

_'Or maybe they are...'_

I watched in stunned disbelief as most of the Vikings left the Hall. They had all chosen to join a doomed mission over a babysitting assignment. My hatred of the human race was renewed as I turned to watch the stragglers.

"No, I need you to stay and train some new recruits," the chief explained to Gobber.

"Oh perfect," the blacksmith muttered, "And while I'm busy, Hiccup can cover the stall! Molten steel, razor-sharp blades, lots of time to himself. What could possibly go wrong?"

_'Okay, who the heck is this Hiccup person?'_

The chief sagged onto the bench and let out a heavy sigh. It became very clear that Gobber and the chief were friends. Close enough for the 'mighty Viking leader' to let his facade down. Before they could remember that I was around, I pulled up my hood and nearly close my eyes, pretending to be resting instead of eavesdropping.

"What am I going to do with him?" the chief asked heavily.

After a few moments, Gobber answered. "Put him in training with the others."

"No I'm serious."

"So am I!"

"He'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of it's cage!" The chief sounded worried.

_'A recruit that deserves extra avoidance from the village and concern from the chief?'_

Gobber dismisses the chief's concern. "Oh you don't know that."

"I do know that actually."

"No you don't."

"No, actually, I do."

"No, you DON'T!"

The chief stands up, choosing a new tactic for what seemed to be a long-standing argument. "Listen. You know what he's like. From the time he could crawl he's been ... different. He doesn't listen."

_'Standard Viking behavior to me.' _Gobber choked on his drink, losing his stone tooth in his mug.

"He has the attention span of a sparrow. I take him fishing and he goes hunting for ... for trolls!"

Gobber turned in his seat, looking very agitated. "Trolls exist! They steal your socks! But only the left ones." Gobber voice quieted as he pondered his own statement. "What's with that?"

"When I was a boy ..." the chief started.

"Oh here we go."

_ 'Must have heard THIS story before.'_

"My father told me to bang my head against a rock and I did it. I thought it was crazy but I didn't question him and you know what happened?"

_'You lost your creative thinking?'_

"You got a headache." Gobber had managed to retrieve his tooth and hammered it back in place.

The chief ignored Gobber's wisecrack. "That rock split in two. It taught me what a Viking could do Gobber. He could crush mountains, level forests, tame seas! Even as a boy I knew what I was, what I had to become." The chief sighed in sadness. "Hiccup is not that boy."

_ 'Wait, is he talking about that guy who called him Dad?'_

"You can't stop him Stoick. You can only prepare him. I know it seems hopeless, but the truth is that you won't always be around to protect him. He's going to get out there again. He's probably out there now!"

_ 'If he is, it's because no one wants him around here. I should know.' _I felt my expression darken as I thought about the Cutthroats. I barely notice that I'm rubbing my left forearm.

The Viking chief (Stoick?) looked in my direction, apparently noticing my movement. I took a swig of water and continued to look at my tankard, avoiding eye-contact.

"What about him?" Stoick asked his friend.

There was a significant pause before Gobber answered. "You did say that you needed some new recruits. From what I've seen, he could do well in Dragon Training. No weakling could survive for six years on his own, nevermind a child."

I fought hard to avoid visibly reacting to Gobber's suggestion. _'Me? Training to kill dragons? With VIKINGS!? What have I done to deserve this?'_

* * *

><p><strong>Blaze's POV - Summit Camp<strong>

Winter perked up as I came in for a landing. I didn't want to talk about my actions, but Winter is a Frost Wyrm, irritatingly wise and sharp-eyed.

::What did you do this time?:: she asked.

I sighed. Knowing the futility of lying to her or Wildheart, I told the truth. ::There was this boy, almost exactly like Wildheart used to be when we first met. I didn't want him to get hurt, so I chased him back towards the village and, well, Wildheart didn't approve.::

Winter shook her head, understanding, but disappointed. ::I'm sure he'll calm down. I assume he's still in the village.::

::Far as I know. Can you do me a favor?::

::Depends on the favor.::

I quickly described the catapult wreaker that was shot down and the rough area they landed in. ::I'd look for them myself, but Wildheart ordered me back to camp.::

::If this catapult wreaker survived, I'll find them,:: Winter promised, ::You might want to keep an eye on the arena though. Some Vikings are moving Spinetails around down there and Wildheart might need more information to plan their escape.::

* * *

><p><strong>Nil-Ven's POV - Forest Floor<strong>

_'Stupid flying ropes. Where did they come from?'_

Struggling against my bonds has proven useless. I can't get free without help and the other dragons have likely returned to the nest by now. The forest is still covered in the early morning fog, but it won't last long. Sooner or later, a Viking will find me, and I will die.

Oddly enough, imminent death doesn't frighten me. _'I must have gotten used to the possibility since the Thick Skull marked me. All those deaths in raids and to the Alpha herself. When did that happen?'_

I sighed at my realization. _'I will never find my kin. Never take a mate. Never even have a friend.'_

I catch a whiff of human. The footsteps are approaching, but they're too light to be a Viking. I closed my eyes and remain perfectly still. _'I might be able to catch one in a fireball. Save other dragons from dying at their hands.'_

A gasp. Someone slides down an embankment. Quick, deep breaths and more slow footsteps. _'You're gonna hyperventilate if you keep doing that.'_

"Oh, wow. I-I did it," whispers a shocked voice. It is young and male. "Oh! I did it! Th-this fixes everything!"

_'Someone's excited. Maybe I'm going to be his first kill. I'm sooooo honored.'_

"YES!" proclaims the boy as he plants his foot on me, "I have brought down this mighty beast-"

::Get off!:: I growl, tossing his foot off. The human gasps in shock and I realize that my ruse is over. I open my eyes to study my soon-to-be murderer.

He is much smaller than I expected, even after his light footsteps. Reddish-brown hair and emerald green eyes stare at my face, absolutely terrified. He's wearing brown and green colors and holding a tiny metal claw with both hands. _'Even I know that thing is meant for one hand.'_

Behind the little Viking, a white dragon that I don't recognize, small and sleek, lands on a tree branch. It peers down in curiosity and concern. _'A dragon spirit, come to escort me to the afterlife.'_

The human gets over his shock and determination takes its place. He seems to be trying very hard to work himself up for my death. "I'm going to kill you dragon. I'm going to cut out your heart and take it to my father."

_'Your father? He's the one making a hatchling like you do this?'_

The human boy changes his grip on his metal claw and raises it over his head. He's still trying to work himself up. "I'm a Viking."

::Then why do you hesitate?:: I gurgled in confusion.

"I am a VIKING!" shouts the boy. I am not convinced though.

_ 'He is trying too hard. Real Vikings don't hesitate this much to kill a dragon.'_

Apparently, the human doesn't believe himself either. He is clearly struggling with indecision. The conflict between his 'Viking Ziik' and his free will is tearing the boy apart. The dragon spirit tilts its head in confusion, realizing something isn't right.

_'But there is no breaking a Ziik. Only an Alpha can undo a Ziik, and this boy is no Alpha. He is only torturing himself by resisting. It always wins, in the end.'_

::Just get it over with,:: I whisper as I lay down to die.

I take a few deep laborous breaths, trying to face my death with dignity. _'At least I will die to a warrior. Not a mindless Viking, but a true fighting spirit.'_

"I did this," whispers the boy with a deep sigh.

_'I'm still waiting to die over here. Can you save your self-loathing for afterwards?'_

A few moments later, one of the ropes binding me goes slack. I open my eyes in surprise, looking back at the boy.

He ... He's cutting the ropes off_. 'But that's impossible ... unless he broke through his Ziik.' _Another rope goes slack and I'm nearly free.

'_That little boy broke his Ziik and is following his heart! He's letting me go!' _ The last rope goes slack, but the human is still armed and uncomfortably close.

I spring up and pounce on the boy, pinning him to a nearby rock. Surprise and fear return to his face. The metal claw bounces out of his grasp. I study my little captive.

::How did you do that? How did you break your Ziik?:: I thought out loud.

The boy squirms under my paw and I tighten my grip. I won't kill him though. My Ziik only forces me to hate Vikings and this boy is not a Viking. Not anymore at least.

The human notices my inaction and his face becomes cautiously curious. He might not know my words, but he seems to understand that my intent is to examine him, not hurt him.

I grew frustrated as I realized that there was no way to get my answers. The boy couldn't understand my question and he couldn't demonstrate how to break a Ziik when he no longer had one. I would still be trapped by my own Ziik until the day I died.

But thanks to this boy, that day would not be today. I gave a primal scream of gratitude to the boy. He cringed under the weight of my emotions, but he still accepted it. I turned and flew away, feeling the approval of the dragon spirit behind me.

At least, I tried to fly away. I bounced off of a large boulder and smashed a couple branches. _'Why can't I fly straight?'_ I couldn't get enough lift either. Before I could safely land, a large cove opened up beneath me. I tried to avoid landing in it, but I just couldn't fly well enough. The best that I could manage was a crash-landing that knocked me out again.

* * *

><p><strong>Winter's POV - Northwestern Forest<strong>

After the dragon fled into the forest, the little human took several deep breaths, trying to calm his heart. He soon reclaimed his dagger and stood up. Secretly, I was proud of the not-a-Viking.

_'Doing what is right, even when others would disapprove, is not easy. Even if you think no one is watching.'_

The not-a-Viking turned to return to the village, took two steps, and collapsed from the shock. He didn't move and I feared his heart may have froze in terror. I glided down and checked on the boy.

His heart is beating and his breathing is steady. He will be fine. I sniffed the boy over carefully, memorizing his scent and appearance. _'Perhaps we can take more than just the training dragons from these Vikings.'_

I whispered softly to the sleeping boy. ::Take heart little one. You are not the only one who defines your own honor.::

I flew back towards camp. Wildheart wouldn't be there for a while, but I couldn't risk being seen by humans.

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Chief's House<strong>

Chief Stoick, accompanied by Gobber and the village elder, led me into his house. He had been busy for most of the morning, planning and preparing for his suicidal Nest Hunt, but was finally ready to hear my story. To respect my right to privacy, the 'conversation' couldn't take place in the Great Hall.

_'Convincing the men shouldn't be too hard, but the elder might be a challenge.'_

Once everyone was settled around the lit fire pit, Chief Stoick gave me a stern look. "All right lad. Let's start with why you were banished."

I took a deep breath before I began. "That is a very long story requiring some background information. To start with, I was the village runt. Vikings are supposed to be big and strong and able to kill boars with their bare hands. I wasn't, and when I was ten, one of the villagers decided to 'cull the herd' so to speak."

Stoick frowned and Gobber was taken aback. The elder simply shook her head sadly.

"He took me out for a 'hunting lesson' and once we were in the woods, he pulled out an axe and tried to kill me," I explained, looking down in shame, "He didn't even consider me dangerous enough to try and hide his intentions; just started swinging. I ran away and screamed for help. I certainly wasn't expecting a dragon to show up."

"A DRAGON came to your aid!?" Stoick shouted as he leapt to his feet. The elder cocked an eyebrow while Gobber's eyes were wide with shock.

"Intentionally or not, yes, a dragon came to my aid," I confirmed, "A Monstrous Nightmare. I'm not sure if there was some grudge between it and my kinsman or if the dragon really wanted to save me, but the two fought."

"Dragons do hold grudges to the death," Gobber commented solemnly as Stoick calmed down, "Since you're still alive, I can guess who won."

_ 'To the death? Stupid Vikings.'_

"Eventually, the dragon killed my would-be murderer," I agreed, "The noise from their fight called another hunting party to our clearing. I just stood there in shock, feet away from a dragon that just killed my tribesman and saved my life. When the second hunting party charged, the dragon flew away without hurting anyone else. Probably didn't see any point in fighting while banged up."

"I suppose that would be a lot for a ten-year-old to take," Stoick admitted, "But what does that have to do with you getting banished?"

"When we got back to the village, I was blamed for everything that happened and then some," I explained, "They accused me of manslaughter, for getting the dragon's attention and causing my tribesman's death; cowardice, for running from an enemy; and aiding an enemy, for not trying to stop the dragon from escaping."

Gobber didn't seem to believe the charges. "A child against a Monstrous Nightmare? You wouldn't have stood a chance!"

I shrugged. "My parents were both dead and village runts don't get friends or favors. The chief needed someone to blame, and he couldn't punish the escaped dragon. Executing a child would have gone too far, so, I was banished."

Stoick looked over at the elder, who nodded in response. "After you were banished, what happened?"

I put on a small smile as I continued. "Lars, the master carpenter and my mentor, gathered some supplies and tools for me. I found a small island without people; doubt it even has a name. I built a small farm and made some fishing nets. Even built a house for myself, a little crooked, but it's home."

"Ever get raided by dragons?" Stoick asked, clearly leading towards the subject of dragon training.

I snorted. "Nothing on the scale of last night, my one-man settlement is just too small. Occasionally, I'll get one or two rogue dragons, but my place is just not worth the effort. I've fended off most dragons, killed a few of them, but my focus is usually on SURVIVING the dragons. There's no one to save me if I get in over my head. Most of my equipment and tools these days are made from repurposed dragon parts instead of metal. Most of those parts were only lost during fights though, not harvested from dead dragons."

"You lived like that, alone, for six years?" Gobber sounded impressed.

"Give or take a month or two," I nodded, "Like I said, village runts don't get friends. Living alone was actually more pleasant than living in the village. No one to make fun of me or put me down. Now where was I? Oh yes. I left my island ... I think about a week ago, looking for new fishing grounds. A Thunderdrum came out of nowhere and sank my boat, stealing the fish I had caught. I woke up on a beach on the far side of your bigger island. I'm not even sure which direction my island is located from here."

"Even if you did, we simply don't have the boats to spare," Stoick confessed, "All vessels are either going on the Nest Hunt or are staying to fish. The ice will be setting in shortly after we get back. I'm afraid you'll have to stay on Berk until Thawing Winter, at least."

_'Like Hel I will. I'll fly back to the Vild long before then.'_

"I see," I responded thoughtfully, "So much for my harvest."

The elder tapped her staff on the floor, calling for everyone's attention. She began to sketch in the soot.

"Gothi says the lad is okay to stay on Berk until then," Gobber translated(?), "But he'll still need to earn his keep and complete dragon training like any other teen."

Stoick nodded in agreement. "You said that your mentor was a carpenter?"

"Yes sir. I finished my Journeyman project when I was nine. Nothing to distract me, and the Mill was a great place to avoid the ... less accepting children. I was usually assigned to repair jobs or building furniture."

"Then for you to stay on Berk, you shall have three tasks," Stoick stated clearly, "One, you must pass dragon training. I don't need you to be the best, nor do I expect you to, but you must pass."

I nodded my understanding. _'I need to at least look like I plan to stay long-term. Passing dragon training? I've lived among dragons for over a third of my life!'_

"Two, after passing dragon training, you will be working for Hangnail, OUR master carpenter. He will appraise your skills and determine if you should resume that work. However, he will be on the Nest Hunt until shortly before graduation, so you'll only be called on to help with emergencies and maintain the equipment until then."

_'I've built plenty of stuff since I left the Skullgaze Islands. I doubt he'll be too hard to satisfy if I'm still around that long.'_

"And thirdly, since you've already fought dragons and come back in one piece, I expect you to help keep the other recruits alive and WHOLE."

"It was one time Stoick!" Gobber complained, "And Bucket was the one that tried to punch that Gronkle in the nose."

"He'd lost half of his brain," Stoick argued, "You should have been keeping a closer eye on him."

"You worry too much," Gobber waved dismissively ... with his hook hand.

"My son is in dragon training this year," Stoick reminded him, "I think I'm worrying just enough."


	7. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - The New Guy**

**Spectre's POV - Village Exterior**

After Wildheart's audience with the village chief and elder, a man named Gobber took him on a tour of the village, pointing out the most noteworthy locations. Many of which were painfully obvious from the sky. Wildheart was clearly uncomfortable with the villagers staring at him.

"This is my forge," Gobber proclaimed proudly, indicating a squat, open-air building near the plaza, "It's the eternal heart of our war against the dragons. Anything you need sharpened or repaired, you bring it here and I'll add it to the pile."

"The only metal equipment I still have is my hunting knife," Wildheart explained calmly, "I can take care of it myself."

"So you've mentioned," Gobber remembered, "You said your equipment was made from dragon body parts. But when it comes to weapons, you just can't beat a good slab of iron."

"Unless you're a hermit and can't forge weapons. Tools and nails are the best I can do with metal. Re-shaping dragon teeth, horns, and claws is no harder than working with a hard wood, especially with practice."

Gobber seemed to be feeling a little smug. "Metal weapons can last for centuries and come in a wide assortment of shapes and balances. How much variety can you get out of animal parts?"

I smiled as my friend tossed back my cloak to reveal all of his equipment, indicating each piece as he named them. "Iisk, my katana, started as a Monstrous Nightmare's fang. My Wakizashi, Jusk, is the claw of a Storm Gilder dragon. I found some Thunderdrum horns to reinforce my bow, Gotro Marzu. I was also experimenting with throwing knives from Nadder spines, but I haven't worked out the best design for balance and accuracy yet."

"Never heard of a Storm Glider," Gobber mentioned.

_ 'Uh oh. He used the dragon name again.'_

"That's ... just ... the nickname I use," the Dragonfriend lied, "I never really studied dragons before I left my village, so I don't know the proper name. It's a two-legged dragon capable of channeling the power of a thunderstorm."

"Sounds like a Skrill. They're really rare and dangerous. No wonder you didn't know the name," Gobber mused, "When and where was this?"

"I got the claw on my island, about five years ago." _True_. "I basically had to hide while my only sheep was stolen. The claw broke off on a boulder." _Not so true_. "Fortunately, it was alone." _We're never alone_.

"Then you were double lucky," Gobber declared, "To see a dragon as rare as a Skrill and again for surviving. What about that cloak?"

"Changewing scales," Wildheart answered as I beamed with pride, "I, well, found another island a couple years back; started collecting the scales before I realized the Changewings still lived there. I'm not showing off THAT scar. Their scales are soft and light, but thick and fireproof, so I made a cloak. It's quite warm. Maybe a little too flashy for a Viking, but hey, who's going to judge a hermit's fashion? I also lined my armor with more dragon scales, harder ones from various species. Tough and flexible like chainmail for a fraction of the weight."

Gobber smiled as Wildheart explained his defenses. "Resourceful. I see why you were able to survive on your own. Metal weapons and armor are still better though."

I smiled gently and Wildheart let the argument drop, closing his cloak again. _'He'd take Jusk and Iisk against any tin sword and wooden shield you've ever made. Lightning to the sword and fire to the shield. Nothing like a panicked and confused enemy for an easy bounty.'_

The tour continued and Gobber pointed out the Great Hall. I recognized the peak's position and gazed up at the small hut on the summit. The one that might spot our campsite.

"Who on Midgard lives up there?" Wildheart asked with faked surprise.

Gobber followed his gaze before answering. "That'd be the hut of Gothi, the village elder. The dragons don't bother destroying her house as often as the others. Too focused on stealing our food."

"Looks like a pain to get to and from on a daily basis," my friend muttered not-so-quietly, trying to get more information.

Gobber took the bait. "Aye, but going up and down that mountain everyday has kept her fit. She IS the oldest resident on Berk, after all. Sometimes, she'll come down at dawn, just to climb right back up again!"

_'Comes down at dawn, got it. With such a trek, she'd avoid making too many trips down and up in a single day. She'd also have to climb back up before sunset to avoid falling off that narrow trail. It shouldn't be a problem as long as we keep low and check the trail before flying off.'_

After crossing a long bridge, we came upon the arena. Several Vikings were wrestling Spinetails into the pens. Tapestries of 'great victories over dragonkind' hung from the cliff behind the Chief's platform. I was focused on the captured dragons, crying out in fear. The whole place brought back bad memories of the Cutthroat Carnival.

One of the Vikings, sweaty from his work, waved to Gobber. "Hope you can handle these bad boys Gobber. They're gonna give your recruits a run for their money."

Gobber chuckled good naturedly while I tried to stay calm. Those Spinetails had barely reached maturity. That green one was only four years old, at most. Now, they were being forced into small lightless rooms, for who knows how long. _'We have to get them out. All of them. To do that though, we'll need more information.'_

"I take it those dragons are for training?" Wildheart asked, trying to sound casual. He sounded a little green, but Vikings aren't normally the most observant lot. Gobber was no exception.

"Aye lad," Gobber smiled, "First time I've had so many dragons for training. It's gonna be a great session. We might be able to have a dragon for every graduating student this year."

Dread crept up my spine as Wildheart asked, "What do you mean?"

Gobber gave a toothy grin as he explained. "Normally, the recruit that does best, wins the honor of killing his or her first dragon in front of the entire village. The most powerful dragon we have, which is currently a Monstrous Nightmare. With all these Nadders though, we could pit them against the students who pass, but just weren't the best. Still need Stoick's approval though. Catching dragons alive isn't easy."

Now, Wildheart had gone pale. _'Trapping a dragon in the cramped dark for days on end, just so they can kill it? How can they think that is honorable? If they go through with that "dead dragons for graduating" idea, then if Wildheart passes dragon training ...'_

"You alright lad?" Even Gobber saw that something was wrong.

Wildheart shook his head. "I can't do it. I can't kill them."

Gobber looked at my friend, puzzled. "But you said that you've killed dragons before ..."

Wildheart realized his slip of the tongue too late. Thinking fast, he came up with a plausible explanation. "I meant the Monstrous Nightmare. I can't kill them. After that one saved my life, I've always had to run from them. I can't even raise a weapon against a Nightmare. Try and force me to fight one, and I will die, **period**."

Gobber took a good look at my friend, looking at his fear in confusion. "But you wrestled that Nightmare in the raid."

"But I never drew my weapons. I was just trying to drive it off, not kill it," he pointed out, keeping his voice low, "When I fight dragons, I don't do it for honor, pride, or glory. There's never been anyone else to acknowledge it. To me, fighting dragons is no different than eating, sleeping, or seeking shelter. It's about survival, no more, no less. So, when a Monstrous Nightmare shows up, I would usually just run and leave it to it's business."

Gobber was quietly studying the teen for a while. I silently hoped that he had pulled off this impromptu deception. The Vikings got the Spinetails into their pens and started back towards the village. When it was just me, Wildheart, and Gobber in the arena, listening to the crying dragon prisoners, he broke the silence.

"Alright lad," Gobber agreed softly, "I'll talk with Gothi so that you won't come in first."

I smiled, not for Gobber's understanding, but his gulibility.

"Really?"

Gobber nodded. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. We've all got our own personal demons. Ask me about the Boneknapper some day. Besides, only the best Vikings go after the Monstrous Nightmares. It'd mean more to the other recruits anyway. Like Stoick said, you just have to pass dragon training, not come in first."

_'One problem solved. we'll still need to get those dragons out before the Final Exam. Since Wildheart's new to the island, the Vikings'll know something is up if we just opened their pens one night. We need to think this through, especially if Wildheart needs to stay on Berk for longer than we want to. Earning the dragons' trust first would also be smart.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Winter's POV - Summit Camp<strong>

Blaze was watching the Arena when I returned to camp. Whatever he saw, didn't please him.

::What's wrong?::

Blaze was startled at first, but relaxed quickly. ::I've been listening to how these Vikings are treating the other dragons. It's terrible. The dragons are locked up until they're needed for training, only fed once a day, and most of them are barely adult dragons!::

I nodded sadly. ::Sounds a lot like when we were locked up by Wildheart's old tribe. At least they aren't forced to kill each other here.::

::Doesn't make it right,:: Blaze sighed, ::So, what about the downed dragon?::

I felt my eyes sparkle as I explained how a Viking boy released the catapult wrecker. When I described the boy, Blaze smirked as well.

::Sounds like the same boy that shot it down.::

::The one you chased around?:: I teased, ::It would explain why he was out there. He was looking for the dragon. The wrecker dragon's probably flown back to the nest by now.::

::The boy will still be in the village though. We can ask Spectre and Wildheart to keep an eye out for him.::

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Hooligan Mill<strong>

After a short walk into the forest, we came up to the open-walled Mill, which featured a waterwheel-powered saw to cut logs into planks and beams. Pegboards of detail-work tools lined a series of desks. Tool bags for construction jobs were near the exit towards the village. A stockpile of nails, hinges, and wood were stacked under the roof. A steamer box and mini-forge stood a few hundred feet downstream. Overall, it was a lot like the Mill back on Greater Skull. Vikings aren't the most creative architects.

Gobber introduced me to Hangnail, the village's master (and only) carpenter. He had brown eyes, a black beard, and all of his limbs, but was otherwise undistinguishable from the rest of the villagers. Hangnail looked me up and down in displeasure.

"Gobber, are you trying to give me my own Hiccup?" Hangnail said mockingly, "I don't need my Mill burned down."

I scowled at the Viking's rudeness. It wasn't that I was expecting a warm welcome, but the way Hangnail just talked like I wasn't even listening, while I was standing right in front of him ... I was tempted to burn down his Mill on purpose.

_'I'd forgotten about that arrogant Viking attitude. That expectation that you have to prove your worth before you can get even a drop of respect. Until then, you're either a hinderance or ignored.'_

"Chief's orders," Gobber explained, "He's just on standby in case of repairs while the warriors are gone."

Hangnail didn't seem pleased, but nodded all the same. "Just don't break nothin' before I get back from the nest hunt," he said dismissively as he left towards the village, hauling a sack of tools.

"Nice to meet you too," I muttered quietly before turning to Gobber. "Is he always like that?"

Gobber nodded. "Hangnail hasn't had an apprentice in a while. They kept getting killed in the raids, less than a month after taking the position. Everyone's convinced the job is cursed, so no one is volunteering."

"So Stoick decided to order me into the job," I realized out loud, "Prove myself stronger than this curse."

"Just temporarily," Gobber tried to reason with me.

I walked along the tool racks, learning where to find everything. "But Hangnail still expects me to be dead before he comes back. How often does the village get raided anyways?"

"It fluxuates throughout the year," Gobber replied, "Storms and bad weather keeps the dragons away. Also, we're not the only village that gets raided. Our next raid probably won't be for weeks. But of course, we can't sail to the nest when the ice sets in."

I paused and turned to Gobber. "Your harbor gets locked by the ice?"

He shook his head. "Not the harbor itself, but the ice builds off of the sea stacks surrounding the island. Then there are the icebergs that come floating down from the north. Getting a ship through that is impossible. It's even worse in Helheim's Gate, to the northwest. That's where the dragon's nest is, somewhere."

I picked up an adze, admiring the tool's metal edge. _'I've seen Helheim's Gate on sea charts. It was always just an uncharted fog bank. I always did get an uneasy feeling around there, so we never tried to explore it. We must be just beyond the territorial range of the problem nest, since Dovahro Vild is east-southeast of Berk.'_

I looked up at the horizon, which was growing more yellow. The sun would be setting soon. "It's getting late. Do you mind if I stay and look around a bit?"

Gobber looked up and nodded in agreement. "Just don't take too long. Stoick will want to properly introduce ya to Hiccup before the expedition takes off."

I nodded and pretended to explore the Mill in more detail. A few minutes after Gobber was out of sight, I stepped out of the Mill.

"Spectre."

A second later, my friend had revealed herself and was crouching in front of me, waiting for me to get on. I mounted up and raised the hood of my Clearscale cloak. Once we were both invisible, we flew towards the Summit Camp.

* * *

><p><strong>Luna's POV - Dovahro Vild, Home<strong>

I was reading one of Big Bro's journals from when he was learning to write in Dovahzul, waiting for the sun to set. The compact mirror was balanced on my knee, but Big Bro hadn't opened his yet.

Big Bro made the mirrors from one of Oracle's crystals. By spliting the crystal in two, each half can project whatever would normally be reflected to the other mirror, both light and sound. With a little mana and advanced planning, there is no better method for long-range communications.

"Luna."

I set the book aside and picked up the mirror. Instead of my own reflection, the mirror showed Big Bro with Winter looking over his shoulder. With my mana reserves, I knew I could only project my image to Big Bro for a few minutes.

::Hi Big Bro! How's it going with the Vikings?::

Big Bro sighed. ::Complicated. It turns out that there is a dragon nest raiding the villages.:: Big Bro then explained everything that happened to him and the others on Berk.

::So you won't be coming back as soon as you thought?:: I was disappointed.

::Sorry Luna, but I can't just ignore this,:: Big Bro answered, ::Besides the war, I'm curious about this boy that shot down and released a dragon. Winter's description sounds like the chief's son, but I'll need to confirm it before I can risk any action.::

::How are you going to do that?::

::Supposedly, there are only six teenagers on Berk,:: Big Bro admitted, stroking his chin, ::I saw the other five during the raid, but things were too chaotic to get a good look at them. Another one of them might match the description too. Every teen is going to be in dragon training tomorrow, so I should be able to figure it all out then. I might be able to get a scent marker, just to be positive.::

I felt my eyes get wide. ::The Vikings are training dragons?::

Big Bro frowned. He looked so sad. ::I wish. They're training the Viking teens on how to fight and kill dragons. Next generation of 'warriors to defend Berk from the flying demons'. The chief insisted that I participate too.::

The idea of Big Bro training to kill dragons made me uneasy. It must have shown on my face because Big Bro gave a reassuring smile.

::Don't worry,:: he said, ::I'll only be pretending to fight the dragons. I'll do my best to rescue the training dragons without blowing my cover. With luck, they'll even join our clan. First things first, I need to get the dragons to trust me enough to accept my help without hurting me.::

::That doesn't sound too hard.::

::Normally, I'd agree,:: Winter chimed in, ::But things aren't normal around here. Three hundred years of raids? WHY? Something strange is going on and whatever it is, could complicate anything and everything.::

::I've got to get back to the village before I'm missed,:: Big Bro added, ::I'll talk to you tomorrow.::

I gave a small smile. Maintaining the mirror communication was starting to tire me out. ::Stay safe, all of you.::

::That's the plan!:: Spectre called out from somewhere.

Big Bro smiled and nodded before the reflection changed back to my own.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV - My House<strong>

I quietly open the door to my house, silently praying that Dad isn't home. No such luck. Dad is tending the fire. That Fierce-Eye guy from this morning is sitting across from Dad, carving at a block of charcoal-marked wood.

"What exactly is it going to be?" Dad asked Fierce-Eye, trying to make small talk. I shut the door and hope that the conversation keeps them from noticing me.

"A 1-to-12 scale model of my Journeyman project," replied the teenager, "The original was a seven-foot totem of a Hobblegrunt. They lined the path to our Kill Ring with sculptures of dragons."

_'Never heard of a Hobblegrunt. Must not be a local breed.'_

Dad nodded at the description. I creep towards the stairs. Fierce-Eye spots me as I reach the staircase, dropping to all fours.

I was halfway up the stairs before Dad says, "Hiccup."

_'So close, and yet, so far.'_

"Dad," I responded, slightly startled, "Uh, I have to talk to you."

Dad stands up and turns to face me. "I need to speak with you too you too, son."

_'Just spit it out and get it over with.'_

Fierce-Eye is still focused on his carving. Somehow, Dad and I synchronize our announcements, talking over each other.

"I've decided **I think **that I don't want **it's time you learned how **to fight dragons **to fight dragons**."

_'Wait a second.'_

"What? **What?**" Dad and I ask each other, again with perfect synchronization. Fierce-Eye has stopped carving and is now watching us.

Dad realizes the problem. "You go first."

But my Dad is the chief. He's supposed to go first to show strength, especially in front of a guest. "No, no, you go first."

Dad realizes the mistake in etiquette and begins to talk. "Alright, you get your wish. Dragon training, you start in the morning."

_'Initiate full-blown panic mode.'_

"Oh man, I should have gone first," I ramble, moving my arms around, gesturing with my words, "Uh, cause I was thinking ... you know, we have a ... surplus, of dragon fighting Vikings. But do we have enough ... bread-making Vikings? Or small home repair Vikings?"

Fierce-Eye has tilted his head behind Dad's back, a small smile tugging on his lips. His expression is torn between confusion and amusement. Dad, meanwhile, has picked up an iron battleaxe and tossed it into my arms.

"You'll need this," Dad declares. I stagger under the unexpected weight.

"I don't want to fight dragons," I state as clearly as I can. Fierce-Eye raised an eyebrow, clearly catching my declaration better this time.

"Aw c'mon," Dad says dismissively, chuckling like I'm joking, "Yes you do." He starts to walk away from the conversation like it's already over.

_'This is SO bad!'_

I stumble down the steps, trying to reach my Dad. "Rephrase. Dad, I CAN'T kill dragons."

Dad turns back to me, mirth still in his voice. "But you WILL kill dragons."

Fierce-Eye is watching this exchange with curiosity, but doesn't say anything. He's probably just trying to understand Dad's lack of listening. _'Welcome to my world.'_

"No, I'm really very extra sure that I won't," I try to argue back. The axe is top heavy and I almost drop it.

"It's time Hiccup."

"Can you not hear me?" I ask, almost begging.

"This is SERIOUS Son," Dad's voice takes on a hard edge, "When you carry this axe -" Dad takes the axe, holding it vertically, "-You carry all of us with you." Dad hands the weapon back to me, but it is still top-heavy and dips to the floor. Dad lifts the axe up again and I am able to re-postion my hands to keep it up. "Which means you walk like us." He straightens my posture, forcing me to look at him. "You talk like us." Dad taps his head before continuing. "You think like us." Gesturing at me, Dad finishes his speach by saying, "No more of ... this."

The axe slips a couple inches in my grip. "You just gestured to all of me," I reply sarcastically.

"Deal?"

"This conversation is feeling very one-sided!" I complain, hoping that stating the obvious might help. It doesn't.

"Deal?" Dad asked again more forcefully.

I sighed in defeat. "Deal."

_'Someone kill me now.'_

Dad shouldered a bag and started for the door. "Good. Fierce-Eye will be staying here for the time being, but he'll be spending most of his time at Dragon Training or the Mill. Train hard and I'll be back. Probably."

As Dad puts on his helmet, the hopelessness of my situation comes in full. "And I'll be here," I call back, "Maybe."

Dad exits the house, leaving me alone with the guy who saved my life. "That went well," Fierce-Eye commented with a wry smirk, "Reminds me of trying to talk to my old man. So, why DON'T you want to kill dragons?"

I know that Fierce-Eye is just trying to be friendly, but he accidentally raised a good point. _'How would I explain what happened this morning? What could possibly explain such a drastic change in my character?' _I sighed and marched up towards my room, dragging the handle of the axe along the floor.

"Nice talkin' to ya," Fierce-Eye calls up after me, annoyed at being ignored.


	8. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - The Hybrid**

**Wildheart's POV - Greater Skull, Heimgardt Household**

When I opened my eyes, I wished that I hadn't. This couldn't be right. _'Why am I in the Heimgardt household?'_ Part of me wanted to deny my surroundings, my personal Hel on Midgard. The very place that I swore to never return. _'Please let this be a mistake.'_

I saw the wall lined with marks of my height from all ten birthdays, detailing remarkably slow growth. The old pots were still hanging over the fire pit, all of which were too small for the family of three that once lived here. Even that old notch was burned into the support beam, from when Dad missed me with the hot fire-poker that one time. This place was full of memories, and none of them were good.

"There yeh are runt! You were supposed to restock the wood bin!"

I turned in horror to see the monster himself, drinking from a tankard at the table. A mountain of a Viking with dirty blond hair, matted from not bathing in the past month. His curly beard looked like an Ember Claw's nest. Even if the man was sober, his clothes would still reek of mead. It was Frangeir Heimgardt, my sire, but no father.

I raised my left arm defensively. I don't use the Survivor's Chain lightly, but if anyone deserved its wrath, Frangeir the Vicious certainly did. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I do know that you're supposed to be dead."

"Why? 'Cause old Lars told you so? Did you ever think he lied so you'd have the guts to finally leave?"

I huffed in annoyance. "Lars was a good man, but he wasn't _that _clever. He honestly thought Chief Derek would let me live if I surrendered."

Frangeir gave a drunken laugh and my blood ran cold. "Aye, he's always been a bit thick. Look at how much free time he let you have. Enough to keep a pet dragon on Little Skull."

"Blaze is no pet. He's proven to be closer family than you ever were," I snarled back, clenching my fist and preparing to unleash my most powerful spell. I can already feel the magic bubbling beneath my skin, ready to erupt. "A pathetic coward who drank himself stupid and beat up his wife and child, just to feel powerful."

"Look at where that beast got you! Stuck dying your hair black and hiding your face from humans until you're legally dead! Depending on _**dragons**_ to stay alive."

"Compared to being the village's scapegoat? I am the Alpha of the Shattered Chain and I'm proud of my clan. Every last one of us would gladly lay down our lives for the others. Besides, there's only one year left to go, then the Heimgardts will officially be extinct. Your greatest fear, come true."

Frangeir slammed his drink onto the table. "You're not even a VIKING anymore!"

"I KNOW! ISN'T IT AWESOME? I've become something completely unheard of before! The blood of a Viking, the warrior heart of a Samurai, the tactical mind of a Greek, and the magical soul of a Dragon! I have seen lands untouched by humans, befriended dragons that even Vikings consider to be mere legend, saved uncounted lives through my bounty hunting, built my own homestead, and accumulated enough wealth to buy a castle! What did being _just_ a Viking do for you? Besides earning you the burning man treatment?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed, lowering my arm. My magic settled back down, but my arm was still going to ache for a while. It was obvious by now that Frangeir's only weapon left were his words, and even those were powerless. As dangerous and intimidating as a wooden dagger. Arguing with a ghost wasn't going to get me anywhere, so I started towards the front door.

"Where do you think you're going? Do you honestly think you can convince even one village to stop a 300-year war?"

I paused at the door and gave my sire a small smile. "Maybe not, but when I started, I didn't expect to be so successful at bounty hunting either, even with dragons. If I only save a few lives, I will be happy that I made a difference."

"Odin's sent you on a fool's errand! All you're going to do is get yourself and your precious clan captured! Then, every last one of you, will die."

That was when I realized what was going on. "This is a dream. No Viking would disrespect Odin out loud. You're just my doubts and hesitation running unchecked. That's why you're still so articulate. I bet you can't even walk over here to hit me. You're not my old man."

'Frangeir' took on a furious snarl, one that gave me nightmares as a kid. Compared to bounties I've bagged though, he looked like nothing more than a pouting child.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV - Chief's House<strong>

When I came downstairs, Fierce-Eye was already up. He had a dark look on his face, staring into the glowing embers of last night's fire and rubbing his bare left arm. _'He has a tattoo? Go figure.'_

"Morning."

Fierce-Eye looked up in surprise, still holding his marked arm. "Good morning."

Something about Fierce-Eye's motions were self-comforting. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Fierce-Eye glanced at his arm and gave a shallow laugh before answering. "No, just pain memories. I think being among Vikings again is stirring up some old nightmares." The castaway starts to rub his arm again. I can now see that it is a tattoo of a black chain, winding around his arm from wrist to elbow.

"I take it you don't like it in Berk?"

He sighed. "I'm reserving judgment, but I am not fond of Vikings in general. Ironic, I suppose, seeing that my parents were Vikings." Fierce-Eye paused as he appraised me. Whatever he was looking for, he decided to continue. "I was the runt in my village. 'Daddy dearest' didn't approve of me in the slightest, but he needed an heir to the family name. That's why I took up a new name. A final insult to the abusive jerk. The family name will legally die soon enough."

_'Abusive? Oh gods ...'_

"So you're only staying on Berk because my dad told you to," I whispered in realization. I wasn't expecting him to hear me, very few ever did.

"Pretty much," Fierce-Eye answered, "I know that I'm going to go back to my island if I can help it, so I need check the sea charts and try to figure out its location. If I stay on Berk after the Thaw, I'll need to retrieve some personal effects. If I return to my hermit lifestyle, I'd rather rebuild my pre-existing homestead then start from scratch." Fierce-Eye rolled down his sleeve and started to put his armor and boots on. "I'm going to get some food before Dragon Training starts. Are you coming?"

I thought about it for a couple of seconds, but I didn't want to run into Snotlout and the others. _'They'd probably make some snide comment about me training with them.'_

"No, I'll see you at the arena," I answered.

Fierce-Eye gave me a funny look as he tied his hair into a high ponytail. "Your call, but the way I see it, hiding from your problems won't solve them. If you don't face them, will anything ever get better?"

"They won't get worse either," I reply, "Everything tends to go wrong when I try to fit in."

"Then don't!" Fierce-Eye instructed, "Do I look like I'll fit in among Vikings? Of course not. I've adapted to survive without human aid. There are thousands, possibly millions, of people on Midgard. I'll never please them all, not even most of them. No one will. In the end, the only human I need to satisfy is myself, and I do. If others like me, cool. If they don't, why should I care?"

I couldn't help but envy his 'I don't care' attitude. Some might say it was a lonely way to live; but to another village runt, it sounded pretty good. _'Could it work for me?' _I was about to take back my choice when I realized that Fierce-Eye was already gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Arena Gates<strong>

After a light breakfast in the Great Hall, I went straight to the Arena, hoping to do some early morning reconnaissance. Find the food and water chutes, maybe the winch for the chain roof. Unfortunately, some of the other teens were already there, eager to master the 'ancient and _very_ respected art of dragon slaying'. Exploring would look a little too suspicious in hindsight after Operation: Jailbreak.

_ 'How did I get into this mess? Oh, right. Odin felt bossy.'_

One boy with black hair looks like the stereotypical Viking teen. He is standing still but his eyes are darting everywhere. _'Trying to project an image of fearlessness, but he is definitely scared.' _The horns on his helmet are more curled than pigs' tails. He brought a very spiky mace. _'Intimidating, but meant for simple minds. I imagine some of the bullies back on Greater Skull would look like him by now.'_

A pair of obviously fraternal twins are fighting each other. The four horns on each helmet suggested that they were a little insane or over-the-top. More than once, I thought that they were going to fall off the cliff and take a three hundred meter swan dive, but none of the other teens are paying any attention to them. _'Must be pretty common for them to fight about one thing or another.'_ A pair of spears, with points on both ends of the shaft, lie unattended nearby. _'Barbaric weapons. Definitely not meant to be used in defense of anything. That second point would damage the protectee.'_

The second girl is sharpening her battle-axe. Her body language is speaking complete confidence without arrogance. _'A difficult feat for a Viking. She knows that dragon training is dangerous and is focused on getting that last little advantage.' _She is wearing a Shieldmaiden headband and has skulls and spikes on her skirt. _'The message is very clear. If you're not here to help me excel, then stay the Hel away from me.'_

The largest of them all is wearing a fur tunic and a helmet with almost tiny yak horns. He seems happy and excited to begin training. '_Physically, he'd make a powerful warrior, but his innocent smile doesn't fit that personality.'_ His weapon is a simple stone hammer, better suited for construction than battle. _'It's like he was born with a warrior's body when all he wants to do is have a quiet life.'_

Black Hair and Big Guy notice me crossing the bridge. I try to ignore their confused looks by surveying the cliff face. The others continued their pre-training activities.

Once I cross the bridge, I sit at an open section of wall on the viewing platform and close my eyes. _'Might as well grab a power nap. Don't want to miss any of the slaughter.'_

A shadow soon stands over me. "What are you doing here?"

I open one eye and see Black Hair standing over me. _'He's trying to boost his own ego by making someone else scared. A bit like a wild Flame Body lighting themselves on fire to intimidate their enemy. All flare, more exhaustion, and no real advantage.'_

I close my eyes again before answering. "I'm waiting for dragon training to start. Chief's orders."

"Why?" Black Hair tried to bully me again.

"To prove that I can handle it on Berk, I was given three tasks," I explained, counting them off with my fingers, "Pass dragon training. Keep everyone in training alive and whole. Serve as the village carpenter while Hangnail is keeping the Nest Hunt afloat."

Black Hair made a dismissive sound. "YOU'RE supposed to protect US? We don't need your help."

"Chief Stoick would disagree."

I could almost hear Black Hair smiling. "And what makes you so special?"

I decided to answer truthfully. "Because I've killed two Whispering Deaths and a Thunderdrum. All without backup."

Silence. The twins had stopped wrestling and Axe Girl stopped sharpening her weapon. Black Hair had finally shut up and moved on. Only blissful silence remained, for about five seconds.

"Then why are you in dragon training with us?"

I gave up on my power nap and sat up with my eyes open. I turned towards the voice and saw Axe Girl glaring at me.

"Your village by-laws state that EVERY adult has to go through dragon training," I explained, "I may not be an adult yet, but I'm not getting any younger either. Besides, I may as well get to know the rest of you Miss ..."

Axe Girl's glare darkened before she answered. "Hofferson. Astrid Hofferson."

I nodded. "And I am Fierce-Eye. I have no family name."

Astrid was slightly stunned as she realized my implication. '_No family name normally means I was disowned and have no family. No VIKING family anyways.'_

Big Guy (Fishlegs) picked up the conversation and provided everyone's names. He seemed decent enough for a Viking, but none of these teens came close to matching Winter's description. I was repeating my modified life story (again) when Gobber came stumping across the bridge.

As I stood up, I realized that Hiccup was trying to hide behind Gobber as they crossed the bridge. _'Hiding in plain sight. It's like I'm looking at my past. If that's the case, do Hiccup's peers treat him just as poorly?'_

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV - Arena Floor<strong>

I tried to stay out of sight while the other Berk teens followed Gobber down the ramp. Only Fierce-Eye lingered behind, watching me with an analytical eye. Gobber lifted the Arena's heavy inner gate before turning to the other teens.

"Welcome to dragon training." Gobber sounded cheerful.

"No turning back," Astrid declared before leading the others onto the Arena floor.

"Problem?" Fierce-Eye asked.

"Gobber believes in 'learning on the job'," I warned the cloaked teen, "We'll probably be fighting a dragon once we're all assembled."

Fierce-Eye took a moment to absorb my information before answering. "If that happens, stay focused on the dragon and light on your feet. Most dragons will be more powerful than you, so focus on deflection and evasion. Not blocking."

I was a little taken aback by the free advice. _'No one but Gobber has ever helped me before. Is this some sort of karma for freeing that dragon?' _I follow Fierce-Eye down the ramp just in time to hear the twins wishing for battle injuries.

"Yeah, It's only fun if you get a scar out of it." Astrid's voice pulled my attention back to the present.

"No kidding right," I called out sarcastically, "Pain, love it."

The other teens turned around and spotted me. _'I should have kept my mouth shut.'_

"Oh great. Who let him in?" Tuffnut asked.

Gobber stepped in to get the class back on track. "Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killing their first dragon in front of the ENTIRE village."

I flinched when Gobber accentuated the 'killing' with a twist of his hook. Fierce-Eye was looking away from Gobber during his announcement, examining the Arena for his first time. The other teens all looked eager for the honor.

Snotlout's brain must have been working hard this morning since he had a comment ready. "Fierce-Eye has already killed dragons, so ... does that disqualify them or ...?" The other Berk teens began to walk away, laughing at Snotlout's comment.

_'Wait. Fierce-Eye has killed dragons?'_

I looked at Fierce-Eye with a questioning look. However, he didn't notice as he snapped a glare at the teens' retreating backs, muttering under his breath. "Zu'u fend dah tol zurgah vok hin reym. Ofan hi saad wahrok." No one else seemed to hear him though.

_'What language was that?'_

"Can I transfer to the class with the cool Vikings?" Tuffnut asked cheerfully.

Gobber grabbed my shoulder and walked me toward the other teenagers. "Don't worry. You're small and weak. That will make you less of a target. They'll see you as either sick or insane, and go after the more Viking-like teens instead."

Gobber puts me next to Fishlegs and keeps walking in front of the class. Fierce-Eye slipped onto the end of the line next to me. _'Everyone else already has their weapons out. Why doesn't he?' _I shoulder my axe, hoping to at least look like a warrior.

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV - Murder Floor<strong>

"Behind these doors are a few of the species that you will learn to fight!" Gobber declares proudly, "The Deadly Nadder."

"Speed eight, armor sixteen."

_'Needles would be insulted with only eight speed.'_

"The Hideous Zippleback."

"Plus eleven stealth times two."

_'What are they basing these numbers on? Spectre is WAY more stealthy.'_ I had to suppress the sudden urge to wave at the Clearscale, watching the lesson with the others at our camp.

"The Monstrous Nightmare."

"Firepower fifteen."

_'No mention of their ability to carry heavy loads? Really?'_

"The Terrible Terror.

"Attack eight, venom twelve!"

_'Fishlegs: annoyance power twenty-seven.'_

"CAN YOU STOP THAT!?" Gobber yells at Fishlegs, rolling his eyes. "Aaaaaand, the Gronkle." Gobber puts his hand on the release lever.

"Jaw strength eight," Fishlegs whispered. Unfortunately, we were about to have bigger problems than Fishlegs' verbal diarrhea. I nudge Hiccup and flash him a quick smile, thanking him for the warning. He gives me one back for my earlier advice.

"WHOA, wait! Aren't you gonna teach us first?" Snotlout sounds panicked.

Gobber had a smug smile on his face. "I believe in learning on the job." Gobber lowers the lever and the brace is lifted from the thick metal doors.

The female Rock Hide charged out of her cell, snarling aggresively. _'Days in the dark and released among a bunch of armed humans. Can't blame her for being scared.'_ Since I was near the end of the line-up, I only need to take a few steps to let the angry creature by, conserving my energy for the actual fight.

"Today, is about survival," Gobber explained as the Rock Hide and other teens scatter. I'm the only one still remotely close to the Arena's center. "If you get blasted, you're dead."

The dragon bounces off the far wall and begins to eat some rocks. Gobber is meandering towards a collection of shields along the wall. _'Were those always there?'_ The other teens have separated from each other. Most of them are terrified; Astrid being the only other exception.

_'Good grief, the dragon's been out of its cell for three seconds and the Vikings are already scattered and alone. None of them will be able to support each other. It's every warrior for themselves here.'_

"Quick, what's the first thing you're going to need?"

I look back towards the Rock Hide's cell. Doors designed to withstand dragons attacks. Bad memories and a general desire to stay out of there. It was the least bad position available without magical assistance.

"A doctor?" Hiccup sounded worried.

"Position," I answer, jogging towards the open cell and keeping an eye on the dragon finishing her rocks.

Fishlegs must have spotted my maneuvering, because he called out, "Plus five speed?"

"A shield."

"Shields, GO!" Gobber confirmed Astrid's answer.

The teens scramble for the shields near Gobber. I ignore the scramble and stand next to one of the cell doors.

"Your most important piece of equipment is your shield," Gobber declares as he helps Hiccup with a shield, "If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take the shield!" Gobber then shoves Hiccup towards the dragon.

_'Just what every warrior needs: a blind spot.'_

The dragon finishes her meal and begins to chase Fishlegs. Maybe he looked the slowest, maybe he smelled the most scared, or maybe the high-pitched shrieks were annoying the dragon's more sensitive ears. I duck behind the door and watch the pair pass without noticing me; both are tunnel-visioned on their own situation.

"Get your hands off my shield."

"There's like a million shields!"

The twins have both dropped their weapons and are now playing tug-of-war with a shield. _'What a pair of idiots. They're sitting ducks like that.'_

"Take that one," Tuffnut tries to order his sister, "It has a flower on it. Girls like flowers."

Ruffnut's anger gives her the strength to pull the shield from Tuffnut's grip. She bashes it over his head before sarcastically offering it back. "Oops, now this one has blood on it."

Tuffnut grabs the shield again and the tug-of-war resumes. Their squabbling distracts the Rock Hide from Fishlegs.

"Watch the Gronkle!" I tried to warn the twins. Said dragon flies over and blasts the shield out from the twins' hands, destroying it. The pair of them spin in place from the impact, but they're otherwise unhurt. "Nevermind!"

_'That shield was angled to take the entire force of impact. No wonder it blew up.'_

"Ruffnut, Tuffnut, you're out," Gobber chimes in while the twins crawl out of harm's way. "Those shields are good for another thing, noise! Make lots of it to throw off a dragon's aim."

_'Only when they're flying. A dragon on the ground has enough points of stabilization to still shoot accurately.'_ I look around and realize that the Vikings have regrouped and started banging their weapons against their shields. I pull out Jusk and Iisk in overhand grips, blunted edges forward. _'When in Viking lands, do like the Vikings.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV - Arena Floor<strong>

Fierce-Eye was dancing in place as he banged his swords against the cell door and beam brace. The sounds had a fast, high-energy rhythm, making me imagine a southern island. He was clearly playing some sort of song, like at a party. _'Is he trying to get the dragon to dance? Maybe the years of isolation have left him a little crazy.'_

The Gronkle was clearly disoriented and the remaining students (minus Fierce-Eye) had begun to circle the dragon. The teens weren't as panicked as they were at first. _'But there are always distractions on the battlefield.'_

"All dragons have a limited number of shots," Gobber explained, garnering everyone's attention, "How many does a Gronkle have?"

Fierce-Eye kept drumming his song, either not hearing Gobber's question or focused on distracting the angry reptile. The other teens stopped banging on their shields to try to answer.

"Five," guessed Snotlout.

"No, six!" Fishlegs corrected, holding his shield arm high.

"Correct, six!" Gobber shouted happily, "That leaves one more for each of you!"

The Gronkle realizes that only Fierce-Eye is still making noise. It turns and takes a shot, but the castaway pulls the door in front of him. The thick metal endures the blast.

"Everybody's a critic!" complained the musical castaway. A moment later, a small mirror peeks around the door. Even though the dragon has moved on, Fierce-Eye doesn't resume his one-man party.

_'Gobber didn't eliminate Fierce-Eye. Likely because his "shield" wasn't destroyed.'_

Fishlegs had turned his back on the dragon, which was now zeroing in on him. Fierce-Eye tried to shout a warning, but Fishlegs' shield is still blown off of his arm and smashed against the wall.

"Fishlegs, out." Said teen runs out of the ring, screaming in fear.

While everyone is distracted, I try to hide behind a weapon's rack, hoping to wait out the two remaining shots. Unfortunately, Gobber spots me when the dragon looks my way.

"Hiccup!" Gobber shouts with irritation, "Get in there!"

I was about to obey when the Gronkle blasts the wall a couple of inches ahead of me. _'That's enough participation for now.' _I slip back into my hiding place. With only one shot left, the Gronkle looks around for an easier target. Fierce-Eye has pulled the door a little farther, hiding himself from the Gronkle's sight, but not mine. He's switched his swords for a bow and arrow, using his mirror to watch the dragon's movements.

_'Good thing the Gronkle isn't the smartest of dragons. Otherwise, It would just circle around to a better angle and blast one of us.'_

Astrid is in plain sight as Snotlout swaggers up behind her. Astrid stays focused on the dragon while Snotlout tries to flirt with her. The Gronkle spots them both and prepares to fire.

Astrid cartwheels away while Snotlout talks after her. Fierce-Eye tried to shout another warning, but Snotlout's shield was destroyed before the warning was even finished.

"Why do I even bother?" lamented the castaway, putting away his mirror to look at the distant dragon directly.

"And that's six!" Gobber calls out, stepping in to force the Gronkle back into its pen. Realizing the lesson is over and there won't be anymore lava blasts today, I step out of hiding and walk towards Astrid.

Too bad the Gronkle disagreed with the curriculum. The dragon followed Astrid through her cartwheel, trying to catch the nimble shield-maiden. Astrid runs right past me and I hesitate too long. I'm now the closer target, so the Gronkle starts to chase me instead. It was only a matter of time before it caught me, weighed down with a heavy axe and large shield. Suddenly, the dragon lets out a startled roar. I chanced a look over my shoulder just in time to see another arrow dart between me and the Gronkle.

Fierce-Eye is standing in front of the Gronkle's pen, gesturing for the dragon to come after him. He also seems to be whispering something, but I can't make it out at this distance.

_'He's covering for you, idiot. RUN!'_

The Gronkle has turned to face the threatening castaway. Before it can charge, Gobber reaches the dragon and hooks its lower jaw, dragging it back to the pen. Fierce-Eye steps out of Gobber's way and starts towards me.

Looking around, I realized just how good Fierce-Eye's advice had been. 'S_tay focused on the dragon and light on your feet. Most dragons will be more powerful than you, so focus on deflection and evasion. Not blocking.' _

Everyone that was eliminated had gotten distracted and was caught flat-footed. They tensed up and tried to fight force with force, getting their shields destroyed in the process. Only Astrid and I had avoided the attacks instead of enduring them. Fierce-Eye lasted because he stayed focused on the dragon and blocked out the distractions, using the environment to his advantage.

Astrid stood nearby, catching her breath. She looked so beautiful and powerful, like a Valkyrie given mortal form. My mind went blank looking at her.

I was only brought back to reality when Fierce-Eye slapped my back, a proud look in his eye and his weapons hidden under his cloak again. Maybe he did only help me for my warning, but I was still grateful. _'Dad was always too busy with the village to teach me anything about fighting and Gobber needed my help to keep everyone else equipped. I owe him for getting me through today.'_

"I guess that makes us the top students, huh?" I pointed out.

Fierce-Eye smile flickered for a moment. Maybe I just imagined it, but his smile didn't seem as genuine anymore. "Yeah, I guess so."

"There is only one top student," Astrid added sternly.

Fierce-Eye sighed. "If you're looking to make this a competition, forget it."

I was confused, but before I could ask Fierce-Eye to clarify, Gobber walked over. The other teens were standing another ten feet away.

"You'll get another chance, don't you worry," Gobber encouraged everyone.

But Fierce-Eye looked stunned. "Are you kidding me?" Fierce-Eye asked incredulously, "It was seven against one and that Gronkle beat four of us!" - Fierce-Eye gestured towards the eliminated teens. - "If we went against anything bigger or multiple dragons, we'd be having FUNERALS."

Fishlegs shrank inwardly and I couldn't blame him. Gobber would eventually pit us against those 'bigger and multiple dragons' scenarios. But we simply couldn't afford these kinds of losses every raid. The village would be wiped out in under a year.

"That is precisely why you're all in training now," Gobber explained, "Better to learn under adult supervision than just throw you out into a raid."

"Adult supervision." Fierce-Eye sounded like he didn't believe Gobber, not that I could blame him. He pointed towards the pens before continuing. "A dragon is a dragon, even when it is alone. You can hate it. You can fear it. But you have to respect that it is physically stronger than you. It is not a toy, or a training dummy, or a book on the shelf. It can, and will, kill you if you take it lightly."

Snotlout stuck his chest out. "Are you saying we aren't taking this seriously?" Fierce-Eye had a condescending look on his face, but before he could say anything, Gobber stepped in.

"Fierce-Eye has brought up a very good point," Gobber declared, taking charge of the situation, "A dragon will **always** go for the kill."

_'Always? But yesterday...'_

"We'll meet up at dinner to discuss everyone's mistakes," Gobber announced, "You're all dismissed until then."

The Viking teens started towards the exit while Gobber began to stump towards the storage area. I glanced over at Fierce-Eye, but he had his eyes closed and was facing the sky. His expression seemed to be one of irritation, so I decided to just leave him be.


	9. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – The Bodyguard**

**Wildheart's POV – Berk's Death Pit**

Gobber was clearly setting up for tomorrow's lesson. There was no way I could talk with the training dragons while he was around and I didn't know how long he was going to stick around. _'Looks like our chat has been delayed again.'_

That disaster of a training session left me with a strong desire to go flying, but there were too many Vikings around to launch from here. Most of the teens took off for the village, praising Astrid every step of the way. _'And most Vikings call the Cutthroats brown-nosers. Hypocrites.'_ Hiccup had left for the forest, likely to avoid bullies.

"GOBBER!" A wiry, old Viking was glaring at the busy blacksmith from the viewing platform. He had a sheep under one arm and a staff decorated with dragon teeth. That gray mustache could probably be tucked under his belt.

"Where's Hangnail? My cart has a broken axle and I need a new one."

Gobber barely bothered to look at the bossy old man. "Sorry, Mildew. He's off on the Nest hunt. Stoick wanted an experienced woodworker to help keep the fleet afloat this trip."

"Then you come fix it," Mildew ordered.

I rolled my eyes. _'Ever hear of the word "please" ya old fart? Age is no excuse for rudeness. Neither is being a Viking.'_

"Can't," was Gobber's reply, "I barely have time to handle the Dragon Training."

I sighed and turn away, planning to take my clanmates out to gather a peace offering for the captured dragons. Unfortunately, my movement caught Gobber's attention.

"Fierce-Eye! Can you give Mildew a hand?"

_'Can't things go smoothly for once on this blasted island?'_

"Depends, does anyone have the measurements handy?" I ask as politely as I can. Vikings grate on my nerves.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV – Raven's Point<strong>

Back at the Night Fury's crash site, I picked up one of the bolas and bounced it in my hand. Fierce-Eye was pretty upset that most of the other teens were taking the training so lightly. I can only imagine how many close calls he's had with dragons during his six-year hermitage. Gobber's declaration that 'a dragon will always, _always_ go for the kill' echoed in my head.

But their opinions didn't add up with my personal experience. "So why didn't you?"

Standing up, I thought about the direction the dragon had flown off in. _'Off of that rock, then under that tree … It wasn't flying too well, so the fall may have hurt it … If it couldn't leave the island, maybe it is still around someplace.' _I dropped the bola and walked after the Night Fury's escape path.

A narrow crack in the ground led into a large cove. It was very beautiful. A couple trees lined the walls. A waterfall fed a small pond. It looked like a great place to escape from the village once in a while. If that dragon was hurt, this would be a safe place to hide from Vikings. _'But there _is _no sign of the dragon.'_

"Well this was stupid," I announced, disappointed. Glancing down, I spot a couple of black circles on the rocky ground. I crouch down to examine one. _'It looks like a –'_

FWOOM!

A large shadow rises over me, startling me into falling backwards. The Night Fury is scrabbling at the cove's wall, roaring in frustration. Eventually, gravity beats the dragon and he starts to fall backwards. It glides over the pond and lands on the opposite shore.

I was elated. The dragon was right there, completely unaware of my arrival. I hopped down to a lower ledge that was less exposed and crouched down to avoid detection. The Night Fury tried to fly away a couple times, but fell back to the ground each time.

'_I should document this.'_

I pat my vest, finally finding my journal and quickly sketch the dragon as an overhead profile. The dragon tried one more time to fly up the cliff, but stalls out and falls again. It clearly wanted to leave this place.

"Why don't you just … fly away?"

The dragon shoots a fireball in frustration and fumes in place for a few precious seconds. Double-checking my work, I realize that the left tail fin is missing. I rub out the inaccurate part of my drawing and compare it to the original. _'So that's why.'_

The dragon flaps into the air, destabilizes, and crashes onto its shoulder. The pond splashes as a fish breaks the water's surface. The Night Fury gingerly creeps up on the pond before trying to snap up some fish, unsuccessfully.

As the dragon lay down to sulk, I sag in self-hate. _'I got him into this mess. Me and my bola launcher. Just to be accepted.'_

Fierce-Eye's words from this morning echoed in my head. _'__In the end, the only human I need to satisfy is myself, and I do. If others like me, cool. If they don't, why should I care?'_

My pencil slips from my hand and, before I can stop it, falls into the cove, shattering the tranquil silence with gentle _tinks_ as it bounces to the ground. Of course, the Night Fury heard it and looks up to spot me on my ledge.

Its eyes, they aren't narrowed in anger or hate, but wide with careful observation. The 'unholy offspring of lightning and death itself' is observing me, and not trying to blast my head off. I tilt my head in curiosity as I realize that. The dragon tilts his head, possibly to mimic me.

I slowly put my journal away and climb back to my entrance, keeping half an eye open for approaching fireballs. None come and I'm soon back at the forest floor.

"What am I going to do about this?"

* * *

><p><strong>Wildheart's POV – Mildew's Peak<strong>

Making Mildew's new axle took an hour to make and deliver (thanks to a certain Clearscale flying the part up the mountain path). I was a little worried when I actually beat Mildew back to his house, though.

"How'd you make a new five-foot axle and get it here before me?" Mildew had asked as I installed the new part.

"Technically, this is just a spare part I managed to find. As for beating you up here, I'm not too sure," I lied, "I got a little lost on the way here. Either I found a shortcut, or maybe you're just getting slow."

I enjoyed poking fun at this cranky Viking. He was too old to fight dragons anymore and couldn't do anything to stop me. Considering that he lived alone as a cabbage farmer, I doubt this geezer had any friends or family.

After a few more minutes, I righted the cart and tested the action. With Mildew satisfied, I started down the mountain trail, looking for a good place to launch from.

::That old man is certainly rude,:: Spectre whispered to me.

::Agreed, but he probably feels entitled,:: I replied, ::Part of Viking culture is to 'Respect your elders!' even if they aren't worthy of that respect. To me, it falls under the same category as 'Honor your mother and father.'::

::And we all know THAT would never happen,:: Spectre agreed. Although she was invisible, I could almost feel her rolling her eyes.

::You'd be surprised how often human grammar is more … precise than it should be,:: I mused, ::A human leader might say, "You will respect me" when he means to say "You will OBEY me". We also try to remember our ancestors, but we'll be very selective on the stories we tell about them. It usually means that we only HONOR them for their virtues or CONDEMN them for their faults, instead of remembering everything that made them human.::

::I think I get it,:: Spectre said thoughtfully, ::It's a bit like our creed. You spent weeks going over the precise words and phrasing in Norse, but when it was translated, most of those changes didn't exist because Dragonese is simpler, using less specific words.::

I scoffed. ::Simple to you dragons, maybe. For humans, we like precision. It's just too bad that most Vikings are too simple-minded to recognize their mistakes. It turns important life lessons into total lies.::

::Have you given any more thought about the dragon-saving heir?:: Spectre reminded me.

::Some,:: I confessed, ::Hiccup is definitely the one that saved the dragon. The problem is that I don't know for certain where his loyalty lies. He is the only son and heir of a _mighty _dragon-slaying Chieftain. A father like that could easily intimidate a son like Hiccup, even accidentally. If we reveal ourselves to him and he tells the Hooligans, intentionally or otherwise, things will get very dangerous, very fast. As a whole, this tribe would never accept the word of an outsider over 300-years of history and heritage. You'd be amazed what humans can choose to ignore, even when it's right in front of us.::

::So, we do nothing to help Hiccup?::

::Our task is to end this war with minimal loss of life. If we stop the raids, the Vikings will eventually realize that their enemies are gone. Of course, we'll look out for Hiccup along the way if we can, but he must choose his own path, fate, and honor. For all we know, he freed that dragon out of a moment of rebellion against his tribe, not sympathy for the dragon.::

::Winter would disagree with you,:: Spectre observed. A rush of wind suggested that she hurried down the path towards something. Rounding a bend in the path, I find Spectre has revealed herself on a large ledge, perfect for a launch.

::Winter may have seen something to bolster her confidence in Hiccup,:: I agree, walking over to mount my friend, ::But I'm the one that knows human nature and I'm the one that would have to explain everything. Now let's go, it looks like a storm's coming and we need to find you guys a cave before it breaks.::

* * *

><p><strong>Luna's POV – Dovahro Vild, Young Forest<strong>

With the storm on the horizon, every dragon was helping to round up the younger dragons. Mommy used to say that herding cats was impossible, but I think herding hatchlings is harder. Needles' latest clutch was the worst. Fortunately, Ember (Blaze's oldest daughter) helped me catch the runaways … again.

::Come on, this is the third time you've come back outside!:: I complained to the trio of Spinetail hatchlings. The red one in front, Ahkon, chirped happily. I just grabbed my forehead and shook my head.

_'These three are going to be SO much trouble when they're older.'_

::Luna? Are you there?::

I jumped in surprise, pulling my compact communication mirror out of my pocket. I had lost track of time trying to corral these little guys, but the sun was now setting. That meant Big Bro was trying to reach me. He was already in the mirror,

::Hi Big Bro,:: I tried to smile back.

Big Bro's eyes got wide as he looked at me. His shoulders shook from restrained laughter. ::Are you okay?::

I sighed. ::Just trying to get everything locked down before a storm hits, but the younger dragons aren't being very cooperative.::

As if on cue, the blue hatchling, Lakif, fluttered onto my shoulder and started playing with my hair. The other two, Ahkon and the purple Volbur, were on Ember's head, teething on her upper horns.

::I am never having hatchlings,:: Ember declared solemnly.

I heard Blaze chuckling before he stuck his head over Big Bro's shoulder. ::It's a lot easier when you're dealing with your own,:: he advised his daughter, ::Your Uncle Wildheart had so much trouble after that first hatching flight, HILLARIOUS!::

::What did you expect?:: Big Bro asked over his shoulder, ::I was worried that you had all left for good, then one day, you all come back with three times as many hatchlings! It was hard enough just looking after the first fifteen by myself!::

::I wouldn't have left if we didn't believe that you could handle it,:: Blaze explained, ::None of us would have.::

::Didn't make it any easier," Big Bro grumbled. By now, the hatchling on my shoulder lost interest in my hair and had started pecking at the mirror in curiosity.

_'Probably wondering how they got in there.'_

Thunder rumbled in the mirror, followed shortly by its real world equivalent. ::Sounds like you're going to catch the storm first,:: I commented.

Big Bro looked at his own sky. ::Yeah, we found a cave on the far side of the island. It should be safe to spend tonight at ground level, since the storm will drive the Vikings indoors.:: Big Bro looked back at his mirror and chuckled, probably at the hatchling's extreme close-up. ::It looks like you've got your hands full anyways. I'll talk to you tomorrow.::

The mirror changed back to normal and Lakif squawked in surprise. The little Spinetail almost fell, but I was able to catch the mischievous dragon in time. ::Time for you to go back into the nest, my little troublemaker.::

* * *

><p><strong>Astrid's POV – Village Exterior<strong>

Storm clouds were brewing overhead as I walked out of my house. I spotted Fierce-Eye walking into town from the bridge. I still couldn't believe that he lasted until the end against that Gronkle, especially the way that he blatantly ignored Gobber's instructions. It worked this time, but I really don't like him.

_'Outperforming the others, okay, even Hiccup got lucky enough to beat them. Saving Hiccup? Fierce-Eye said he had to keep everyone safe to stay on Berk, which would definitely include the Chief's son. But why did he say he wouldn't compete against me? Was he saying that I wasn't a challenge?'_

Instead of heading straight to the Great Hall for dinner, I detoured to get some answers. Fierce-Eye saw me coming towards him and had a look of confusion on his face, but he didn't slow down. I fell into step beside him and decided to just spit out my question.

"What did you mean after training today?"

Fierce-Eye still looked confused. "I said a lot of stuff after training. You'll have to be more specific."

"When I said that there is only one top recruit, you said to not bother trying to compete against you," I clarified, getting a little angry at the memory, "What did you mean by that?"

Fierce-Eye thought for a moment before realizing something. "Actually, I said 'If you're trying to make this into a competition, forget it'."

"Same difference and you're dodging my question."

Fierce-Eye sighed before eying me from head to toe. "Actually, there is quite a bit of difference. Unlike you, I've never developed a competitive spirit. I lived alone on my island, so there are no people to compete against, show off for, or even judge my performance in anything. Everything is always succeed or fail, live or die. So, the idea of me in a competition is rather absurd."

My brain froze at the idea of having no one to compete with. _'I did not see that one coming.'_

Fierce-Eye continued. "I believe I've already explained my three tasks to you. I only have to PASS dragon training. If I'm the only one who passes, fine. If someone outperforms me, fine. I have no interest in killing that Nightmare."

'_NO INTEREST! It's the highest honor in this TRIBE to kill your first dragon in front of everyone! Your friends, your neighbors, your parents!'_

Fierce-Eye suddenly became focused on something in the plaza. I turned to see Snotlout and the twins chasing Hiccup behind a house. Fishlegs was hiding between a couple houses nearby.

Fierce-Eye jogged forward a few steps. "Come on!"

"Why?"

Fierce-Eye slowed to a stop and turned to look at me. He looked at me like my response was in a foreign language. "I've seen that look on kids' faces before. They're about to attack Hiccup!"

"They do it all the time," I explained to the new guy, "It's nothing new. Besides, it'll rain soon."

Fierce-Eye stared at me for a moment in shock. _'Apparently, my answer was just as ridiculous to him as having no competitive spirit was to me.' _He huffs dismissively and runs after the impending fight.

* * *

><p><strong>Snotlout's POV – Village Back Alley<strong>

"Come on, I said that it was a flute," Hiccup whined, "It's not like I actually stand a chance at placing first."

The twins were flanking my pathetic cousin, who was backed up against a house. I didn't care about instruments or odds. Hiccup had outperformed us in dragon training. _'There is no way we could let him slide.'_

"What happened to all that confidence, Mister Top Student?" I asked, cracking my knuckles. "You're getting a big head. You and that new guy both. But we'll get to him soon enough." I pulled back a fist, the first punch of many. Hiccup cringed in anticipation of the strike.

Next thing I know, I'm flat on my back. The new guy is standing over me with an amused smirk on his face. "Why wait?" he asked.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV – Village Back Alley<strong>

** "**Wuld Nah Kest!"

_ 'What is going on?'_ One minute, I'm about to receive another beating from Snotlout. The next, Fierce-Eye dashes in out of nowhere, hooks elbows with Snotlout, and trips him backwards over his right leg.

"Why wait?" Fierce-Eye asked, "I've got a few minutes until dinner."

Ruffnut grabbed Fierce-Eye from behind, pinning the hermit's arms to his sides. Snotlout started to stand up and Tuffnut was doing a slight double-take at the sudden arrival.

Fierce-Eye crouched slightly, letting Ruffnut's arms slip with his cloak, turning an arm-pinning hold into a shoulder hug from behind. He hooked his left leg behind Ruffnut's and grabbing her right knee through his cloak. Shoving up and back, he lifted the girl off of her feet and squashed her against the building, knocking the wind out of her. The Thorston twin slumped to the ground, releasing her opponent in the process. The process from being grabbed to being released had taken about three seconds.

I could only stand there in shock while Snotlout and Tuffnut charged the visiting teen. Fierce-Eye slowly backed out of the alley and towards the village lane, dodging blows and deflecting attacks into buildings and the other Hooligan.

_'He certainly doesn't fight like a Viking. He's letting his opponents injure themselves and each other. It's like he's using his opponent's strength against them. Could I learn to do that?'_

Eventually, Snotlout throws one haymaker too many. Fierce-Eye grabs my cousin's wrist in one hand and Snotlout's shoulder with his other. Fierce-Eye pulled Snotlout around, twisting the bulkier teen's arm backwards. Tuffnut hesitated as he was suddenly face-to-face with Snotlout. In a clothesline maneuver, the hermit pulled Snotlout, letting him land back first onto Fierce-Eye's armored knee. As Snotlout fell to the ground, clutching at his back in pain, I only hoped that the cracking noise was from a pebble or something.

Despite watching both Snotlout and his sister get beat by Fierce-Eye, Tuffnut kept trying to attack his crouched opponent. Tuffnut tried to kick Fierce-Eye in the face, but it was deflected. Not the sharpest axe in the armory, Tuffnut tried another kick. This one was caught and pulled farther forward until Tuffnut lost his balance and stumbled into an involuntary split. The Viking teen let out a high-pitched whimper before Fierce-Eye punched his temple, sending the teen into merciful slumber.

By now, Ruffnut had recovered enough to stand up again and survey the damage. Fierce-Eye aimed a questioning glare at Ruffnut as he took a fully vertical stance.

"Problem?"

That one word was a loaded question, but Ruffnut was smarter than her brother. She showed her hands as she slowly backed off. As if the Gods held off the weather to enjoy the fight, it began to rain.

Fierce-Eye pulled up his hood. "Let's go Hiccup. I'd rather enjoy my meal while I'm still dry."

I followed the intimidating cloak towards the Great Hall's steps, trying to ignore the groans behind me. _'They've left me beaten up in enough storms before. Once won't kill them, and Ruffnut is there to help them.'_


	10. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - The Bar-fighter**

**Astrid's POV - Great Hall, Recruits' Table**

As I walked into the Great Hall, I saw Fishlegs and Gobber at a table near the firepit. Fishlegs was asking questions about the dragons, statistical ones that had no practical use in killing them. _'At least he's asking those questions while we don't have to listen to them.'_

Several plates of food and tankards of water were already waiting for the other students. Thinking about all of the annoying people in class (bickering twins, flirting Snotlout, confusing Fierce-Eye, and wimpy Hiccup), I sat next to Fishlegs on the end of the crowded bench and tuned out the conversation. The chicken was good tonight.

About a minute later, Hiccup darted into the Hall, slightly wet from the rain, followed by Fierce-Eye, who was walking at a much slower pace. Rainwater dripped from Fierce-Eye's cloak, but I doubt any got through to him. His hood cast a shadow over his face, but I could still feel his glare. _'What's he worked up about?'_

Hiccup slowed to warm-up by the firepit, but Fierce-Eye kept walking until he stood directly across from me and Fishlegs. Tossing back his hood, the teen surveyed the table. _'Why isn't he sitting down?'_ With a huff, Fierce-Eye selected a plate and drink and carried them to the neighboring table. He spread his cloak out over the far end of the table_. 'Likely to dry it out.'_

"Weapons aren't allowed in the Great Hall," Gobber warned Fierce-Eye, who still had his swords and archery set on his belt.

"Why?"

"Alcohol is served here," Gobber explained, "Drunk Vikings shouldn't be armed, save for emergencies."

Fierce-Eye smirked. "I don't drink alcohol. Took an oath of sobriety and everything. But can I get a pass this once? It's pouring out there. I do understand your reasoning and won't bring them in again."

Gobber looked towards the door and nodded. "As long as you know, I suppose. But why'd you take an oath like that? It's not exactly common among Vikings."

Hiccup looked over as the teen cringed slightly. "That is between me and my father," Fierce-Eye replied coldly. His tone made it clear that he wouldn't elaborate.

_'Wierd. Adult Vikings drink all the time. I would get it if he never had alcohol to drink, being a hermit and all, but to take an oath against it?'_

The visitor's behavior got wierder as he sat atop the table, not the bench. He pulled a knife out of his boot and cut a slice of meat off of his drumstick.

"Fah faal bahlokus," whispered the swordsman, placing the slice aside on his plate. He removed the drumstick from his plate and began to eat it, almost ravenously.

_ 'Ooooookay.'_

Hiccup finished warming by the fire and seemed confused by Fierce-Eye's seating preference. _'At least I'm not the only one.'_ The heir took the seat between Gobber and Fishlegs, looking a little crowded between the larger Vikings.

_'Three places left and three students left to arrive.'_

Sure enough, Snotlout and the twins arrived together. Ruffnut was trying not to smirk at the two boys limping beside her. Tuffnut even had a nasty bruise on his right temple. Snotlout was shooting dirty looks at Fierce-Eye, who was still tearing into his chicken.

_'At least two-on-one, and Fierce-Eye wins. He might not be competitive, but he is a fighter.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Hiccup's POV - Great Hall, Recruits' Tables<strong>

Once the last three arrivals were seated, Gobber began the performance review session. "Alright then. Before we get into the individual problems, does anyone have anything to say about the group's performance?"

There was a moment of silence before Fierce-Eye spoke up. "Overall, focus was the biggest problem. Almost no one was taking it seriously. Teamwork was also in short supply. Seven-on-one, the Gronkle shouldn't have stood a chance."

"What's that mean?" Snotlout argued loudly.

"I didn't see a team of Vikings this morning," Fierce-Eye answered calmly, "I saw a bunch of individuals trying to outperform each other. Can any of you honestly say that you tried to help anyone else in that arena?"

I hung my head in shame, thinking about how Fierce-Eye had tried to keep the others focused on the dragon. _'He gave me advice before the lesson, even provided cover-fire when the Gronkle was chasing me.'_

Fierce-Eye seemed satisfied with the silence. "On your own, it is nearly impossible to kill a dragon. They're tougher than they look."

_'No kidding. That Night Fury must have been going REALLY fast to tear up the ground and those trees like that.'_

Gobber took a sip of his ale, nodding in approval of Fierce-Eye's input. "Anyone else with group notes?" Most of the teens shook their head as they ate. "Then let's start the individual comments. Where'd Ruffnut go wrong?"

"She got in a fight with Tuffnut over a shield," Astrid supplied helpfully, "Who cares what's painted on it when it's likely going to get destroyed?"

"Why are we training with such weak equipment anyways?" Fishlegs asked, "We'd need at least a class three shield to survive a direct attack from a Gronkle."

Gobber rolled his eyes. "The weight of a shield like that would be too much for any of you to drag around the arena, let alone lift."

"Why do you think I used the door to the dragon's cell as my shield?" Fierce-Eye pointed out, "They're DESIGNED to survive a dragon's repeated attempts to escape."

Fishlegs' face brightened as he nodded his understanding. Snotlout and the twins seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, focusing on their meals.

"Anything else for Ruffnut, or Tuffnut while we're at it?" Gobber asked, not noticing that he already lost the twins interest. When no one answered, he continued to Fishlegs.

"Statistics can be handy, but you need to be more practical while fighting dragons," Astrid advised the large boy, "While you were in your information bubble, that dragon almost blew your arm off."

"And quit being a coward," Snotlout tried to order, "You know we're training to KILL dragons, not run away from them." Fierce-Eye glared at my cousin while Fishlegs sagged in embarassment.

_'Does he dislike Snotlout, or anyone that treats others like that?'_

"Where'd you get those numbers from anyway?" Fierce-Eye questioned the chubby teen, "A Gronkle eats granite as easily as we eat fruit, and you only give it's jaw strength an eight?"

"That'd be the dragon manual," answered Gobber, "It has everything we know about every dragon we know of. You can read it later. Anything else for Fishlegs?" No answer. "Then let's move on to Snotlout's performance."

"No problems here," Snotlout boasted, flexing his muscles, "I was perfect."

Astrid gagged on her food.

"Until you were blasted by the Gronkle," I muttered under my breath. I froze for a moment. _'I just said that out loud. Where'd that come from?'_

"It caught me off guard," Snotlout tried to cover his failure.

"You watched me cartwheel away!" Astrid exclaimed, "From the exact same blast!"

"Okay, but before that -"

"You gave the wrong answer for the shot limit question," Fishlegs complained.

"And even worse, you stopped making noise to screw-up the dragon's vision to give that wrong answer," Fierce-Eye added before taking another bite from his drumstick, "That sixth blast was even the one that eliminated you."

Unable to come up with a response, Snotlout told everyone to shut up and began to sulk.

"You can't improve if you ignore what needs improvement," Gobber chided gently, "Moving on, where'd Fierce-Eye go wrong today?" No one answered immediately.

It was Ruffnut who eventually took a guess. "He didn't get a shield?"

"You mean the ones that blew up?" Fierce-Eye asked after swallowing some food, "I already said that the cell door was my shield."

"He missed his target," Astrid declared, "When he shot those arrows, they pulled down and to the right. Other than that, he did better than average."

_'Not hard with this class.'_

"I made the best equipment I could with what I had available," Fierce-Eye shrugged. Picking up his plate, the hermit began to shovel the peas into his mouth with his chicken bone. The action was definitely uncivilized, even by Viking standards. When the plate was back on the table, only a slice of chicken meat remained on it.

"I'm sure we can find a better bow and arrows in the armory tomorrow," Gobber nodded encouragingly, "What about Hiccup?"

_'Oh great. Here we go again.'_

"Uh, he showed up?" Snotlout asked.

_'Not my choice.'_

"He didn't get eaten!" Tuffnut complained, always hoping for some death and destruction.

_'Probably would have without Fierce-Eye's help, bad equipment or not.'_

"He's _never_ where he's supposed to be," Astrid added.

_'But you tumbled next to me!'_

"He doesn't have enough confidence," Fierce-Eye stated, "He panicked when the Gronkle chased him -"

_'Gee, why wouldn't I have any confidence.'_

"- but he has the most untapped potential out of all of us."

_'Huh?'_ Looking around the table, I could see a lot of confusion. My bullies clearly didn't believe what we all just heard. I wanted to ask for more details, but Fierce-Eye was chewing on his chicken bone like a dog, trying to strip away the last few scraps of meat. _'But there's still a slice on his plate.'_

"Are you seriously saying that Useless can outdo this?" Snotlout challenged the leather-armored teen, flexing his biceps.

Fierce-Eye lowered his bone. "Yes, and I will tell you why. You are _too_ confident. Arrogant, even. You already think you're the best, so you don't try as hard to get better. Hiccup knows humility. He knows what it means to have someone stronger than him. He has twice as far to go, so he works twice as hard as the average person, just to try and break even. Once you're used to that level of effort, it's a lot easier to maintain, eventually surpassing the prodigies."

I thought about all my attempts to impress my father and the tribe. My inventions that never seemed to work, how I'd eat until I was sick to try and bulk up, the weapons I've smithed that Gobber always proclaimed to be better than his own work. _'Comparing all that to what I've seen the other teens do, I guess I do work harder than them.'_

Fierce-Eye locked eyes with me, and grinned. "Never underestimate a little guy with something to prove. My old tribe likely thought I wouldn't last six minutes on my own, but six years later, I'm still here. I bet that I could train him to beat everyone here."

I broke eye-contact and gave a small smile. Satisfied, Fierce-Eye went back to cleaning his chicken bone, still acting like a half-starved wolf. He was even growling like one.

Gobber patted me on the shoulder, silently agreeing with Fierce-Eye, before advancing the discussion."Where did Astrid go wrong in the ring today?"

"I mistimed my summersault dive," Astrid answered promptly, "It threw off my reverse tumble."

Fierce-Eye froze in mid-chew. He looked like a surprised dog with that bone in his mouth sideways.

_'What's wrong with him?'_

"Yeah, we noticed," Tuffnut joked. He had clearly not noticed Astrid's flaw.

"No, no, it was great it was so Astrid," Snotlout tried to flirt. Astrid just rolled her eyes.

Fierce-Eye pulled the bone out of his mouth. "Please tell me that you're all joking. Pointing out a minor flaw when she commited the biggest mistake of all."

Every Hooligan's eyes got really wide. _'Astrid made a mistake? Bigger than everyone else's? Please gods, don't let him die.' _The twins were confused. Fishlegs looked terrified of Astrid's reaction. Snotlout was aghast that Perfect Astrid could ever make a mistake, let alone 'the biggest one of all.' Gobber seemed amused, curious even, about this supposed error. Astrid was, well, abosolutely seething.

"This should be int'resting," Gobber chuckled, "What do YOU think was Astrid's great error?"

Fierce-Eye surveyed our reactions, apparantly surprised that we hadn't seen it. "She abandoned her allies," he explained, "I already said that teamwork was lacking, but no one exemplified that flaw more than Astrid. She was the first one to separate from the group when the Gronkle was released. She kept isolating herself from others. It makes her a smaller target, but it also keeps her from helping anyone. She actually ran away from Snotlout and Hiccup, leaving them to fend for themselves against the dragon. Everyone else's mistakes only got themselves eliminated. To me, she's not a warrior. She's a liability."

Fierce-Eye's words seemed to echo in the Great Hall, filling the silence over and over. Even the few Vikings sitting at other tables had fallen silent. _'... not a warrior ... a liability_ ...'

"Lie ability? She's good at lying?" Tuffnut sounded confused, so Ruffnut smacked the back of his head.

"A liability is someone or something that causes a hinderance or disadvantage," Fishlegs explained.

"Like Hiccup during the dragon raids," Snotlout declared. I sagged a bit under that insult.

* * *

><p><strong>Astrid's POV - Great Hall, Recruits' Table(s)<strong>

Being compared to Hiccup snapped me out of my stupor. I glared at Snotlout, silently promising a violent death if he pushed me one inch farther. He gulped in fear, clearly getting the message.

I stood up and walked over to stand in front of Fierce-Eye. He was sucking on that chicken bone, clearly not worried about me. I realized that he still had his weapons, so starting a real fight was out. _'If I had my axe, he'd be dead already.'_

I settled for tossing Fierce-Eye's drink into his face. "How dare you," I whispered, voice trembling in rage, "How dare you say that I'm not a warrior?" As I slammed the mug back on the table, Fierce-Eye's plate jumped from the impact, tossing something off.

Fierce-Eye blinked a couple times as water dripped off his chin. He examined his bone, shook it a couple times to remove some errant water, and dropped it onto his plate. He _ignored_ me, picking up the stray scrap of food, blew off some dirt, and set it next to his chicken bone. That done, he pretended to notice me and hopped to his feet, standing a few feet from me, expression completely neutral.

"Are you tryin' to intimidate me Princess?" His amused tone broke something in me.

_'PRINCESS!? FORGET THE WEAPONS! DIE!'_

I took a swing at the jerk's face, screaming in outrage. The arrogant pissant just hopped back and avoided the hit. I tried to tackle him, but the half-troll side-stepped. Before I turned around, something jammed into the back of my knees and I fell to all fours.

"Standard Viking fighting style," my soon-to-be-victim lamented. A heavy thunk echoed through the Hall from wood striking stone. "Charge in like a boar because the best defense is a good offense. Strike terror into your foes and you'll win before the fight's begun." I turned to face him and saw that he had propped a bench up on its end (probably what struck my legs), stabalizing it with one hand. "I was expecting something a little more refined from someone named 'beautiful goddess'."

My blood was boiling at this point and I charged again. I feinted with a punch before crouching down for a leg sweep. The leather-clad teen tried to block my punch with the bench, falling for my feint. I managed to hook my kick around his right leg, but there is no resistance. Before I could realize the problem, I had a new boot print on my face. I rolled with the strike, but it still stung. Studying his posture, I realized what happened.

Fierce-Eye had leaned on the bench, planted on his left, like a crutch. When I had struck at his right leg, there was no weight on it. Thus, no resistance. Using the bench for leverage, he kicked at the most meaningful target available, my head.

"Are we done yet?" he asked casually, "I'm getting tired of holding back against inexperienced recruits."

"Who asked you to?" I growled back, rising to my feet. I circled around him, planning to angle his bench to his opposite side.

_'He's clearly used to fighting direct charges. Probably how he beat Snotlout and the twins. I need to be smarter.'_

The arrogant munge bucket sighed and hoisted the bench diagonally behind his back, holding it with both hands. "Don't blame me if you're too hurt for training tomorrow."

I hesitated at that suggestion. Dragon Training is everything around here. All I ever wanted was to kill my first dragon in front of the village. I couldn't afford to get hurt before the final exam. _'But if I back down now, I'll look weak in front of the entire class.'_

I charged, watching the weaponized bench. The lower end swung up towards my head, so I ducked under it. Fierce-Eye side-stepped my charge, but I was inside the bench's range.

Fierce-Eye smirked as he tossed his bench at my face. "CATCH!"

Instinctively, I caught the bench before it crashed into me. It weighed like twenty pounds and obscured my vision, but I still caught it. The problem was that now, my defense was high, leaving my core wide open. Fierce-Eye punched me just under my ribcage, knocking the wind out of me. A shoulder rush after that, and I was flat on my back.

I clung my aching head, which had hit the stone floor. Fierce-Eye hopped on top of the bench bridging over my chest. Fortunately, it landed on it's legs and wasn't crushing me. He sat on his ankles, looking down at me with ... disappointment?

"Well Princess, we'd better add accepting criticism and violent anger to that list of personality flaws."


End file.
